Of Detectives and Doctors
by ShipperWriter
Summary: In Washington DC, John Sheppard is a homocide detective. Elizabeth Weir is a coroner. When they begin investigating a string of related murders, secrets unravel and more could be at stake than their hidden relationship ... AU Sparky! NOW COMPLETE!
1. Subjects

Of Detectives and Doctors by ShipperWriter

Summary: In Washington, DC, John is a homicide detective. Elizabeth is a coroner. To their coworkers, they work well together. But behind closed doors …

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Just the idea and my laptop.

* * *

"Subject is male, approximately 35-45 years of age. 6'2". Dark brown hair. Hazel eyes. No striking markings."

"'No striking markings'? Okay, now you're hurting my feelings."

Doctor Elizabeth Weir looked up from her computer and removed her earpiece. She quickly closed the folder sitting on her desk. "It's not considered professional to listen in on a colleague without their knowledge, Detective."

The tall lean detective pushed himself off the frame of the door leading into the doctor's office. "I was just listening to a beautiful voice in the hallway. And it so happened to be yours." He smirked. "Besides, you're reading my profile. And you _definitely_ missed a few 'striking markings' there, Dr. Weir."

Elizabeth glared at him with a glint in her eye. "Detective Sheppard, are you flirting with me?"

"Maybe." He let himself into the office and sat down in front of her. "Whatcha got for me?"

"Well, at the moment, nothing There were no visible markings on his body that we can use for identification. We've sent his fingerprints and dental records to every driver's license system in the vicinity. So far, we haven't the faintest idea who he is. Or how he died."

John tilted his head and squinted. "So, no preliminary cause of death?"

"No obvious signs of trauma, and we're waiting on the toxicology reports to come back. Sorry, Detective, I don't have anything for you."

He nodded, then pushed himself up out of the chair. "Well, lucky for you, I got somethin' for you," he replied, handing her a business card.

She took it from him with a quizzical gaze. "John, I already have your card."

"Check the back, Doc," he told her with a smile as he left her office.

* * *

The address written on the back of the card led Elizabeth to a restaurant downtown around seven o'clock. She walked in, still unsure as to what she was doing here. The woman standing at the desk glanced up at her. "Hi, how many?"

"Umm, actually, I think I'm meeting someone here." She was looking around the dining area, trying to find a familiar face.

The college aged blonde looked to a table in the back, and then back to Elizabeth. "I have your table ready."

Elizabeth's eyebrows arched upwards, mostly in confusion but also in intrigue. "Oh! Well, thank you."

The hostess nodded at her, motioning for her to follow.

The man sitting with his back to her turned to face them as they approached. Wearing a black suit and a white dress shirt, holding a single red rose, he stood up and smiled. "Hey."

Elizabeth slightly smiled at him. "Hi."

The hostess murmured, "Your waiter will be with you shortly," and left the good doctor face to face with John Sheppard.

He grinned awkwardly at her, handing her the rose as she stepped closer. "Glad you found it," he said, being a gentleman and pulling her chair out for her.

"Well, you didn't exactly leave directions with your note."

"Yeah, but I figured you knew how to use MapQuest," he kidded.

Elizabeth gave him a small smile before laying the rose down next to her silverware. "How did you find this place?"

"When I was a beat cop, I used to patrol in this area. My partner got me hooked." He grabbed the menu laying at the edge of the table top. "Their coffee is great. It's a little late, but-"

"I'm going to be up for a while. I have a lot of paperwork to do," she informed him, eyes grazing over the menu that she picked up. "Any other recommendations?"

His lips quirked upwards. "Well, I'm partial to their pressed turkey sandwich." He gave her a quick once over before he spoke again. "They also make a nice cup of tea, if you're interested."

She shook her head. "I think I'll try the coffee. And - lasagna?" she asked curiously, her eyes widening in delight.

"Yeah, it's huge serving though."

"Is it good?"

"Totally worth it."

She closed her menu. "All right, John. You want to split it?"

He clasped her hand across the table. "Split dinner, but not the check."

"You realize, you tell me that almost every time we have dinner. And I still end up buying something later on," she reminded him, returning the caress with her slim fingers.

"Yeah, but it's usually a movie. Or ice cream. Or both," he stated, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him, though the glimmer in her green never faded. "Are you suggesting a part two for tonight's dinner?"

As the waiter made his way to the table, John smiled before letting go of her hand. "Stick around and find out, Lizbeth."

TBC ...

* * *

This is my first Sparky!AU fic! Let me know what you think, or if you have any ideas or suggestions, or anything you wanna see happen! It's a blank page right now!


	2. Scene of the Crime

John Sheppard stepped out of his car as he pulled on his badge on the lanyard hanging around his neck. A murder first thing in the morning always put his day slightly off kilter. He was thankful he had already finished his coffee.

The officer standing by the perimeter nodded to him and lifted the crime scene tape.

Despite the dreary morning and the evidence cards being set up, when he came face to face with the victim, he had to smile.

"Doc. Fancy meeting you here."

Elizabeth glanced up at him. "Well, I would think it was coincidence. Until Rodney blurted out that you _specifically_ asked for me."

John cringed, silently reminding himself to kill McKay the next time he saw the scientist.

"Only because your skills rival no one, Elizabeth. Just wanted to make sure that we got the best people working on this case."

"And on that note," Detective Evan Lorne threw in as he entered the crime scene, glancing at the coroner before glaring at his partner, "thanks for leaving me in the car."

"Ah, c'mon, Lorne, you were texting your girlfriend! I thought you might appreciate some extra talk time."

A soft clearing of the throat brought them both back around to reality. "Gentlemen, as much as I'm enjoying this, would you like me to give you the preliminary info, or should you wait for my report?"

Lorne stood at attention, hands clasped in front of him. "Sorry, ma'am. Please continue."

She nodded, then looked at John. Despite the crossed arms, he slightly bowed his head with a smirk on her face, his silent permission to go ahead.

"Well then. Victim is female, 36 years old. Wallet was in her pocket. She has a current driver's license," she told them, handing John a plastic card in an evidence bag.

"Alanna Brighton," he read aloud. "Address in Arlington." He passed the bag to Lorne as he started examining it while at the same time listening as she continued.

"I found bruising on her hands and neck. Looks like self defense. And there's also this," she said, raising the victim's shirt above her navel.

An ugly discoloration shadowed across her abdomen, mostly black and blue with some red coloration.

"You think that contributed to her death?"

Elizabeth shook her head uncertainly. "It's too early to tell. There are some other marks, but the autopsy should tell us more. Speaking of which…" She motioned to the van that was backing into the small space between the two apartment buildings.

She stood up, dispensing of her gloves and carrying her bag out with her.

Evan went ahead, writing down the address from the driver's license.

John walked out with Elizabeth. "Need a ride back?" he offered, extending a hand.

Elizabeth stopped walking and looked cynically at him. "The ME's office is not even in the same direction as Arlington from here, Detective. I sense ulterior motives."

"And I sense that you will be starving around 6 o'clock, but you will be so engrossed in your work that you won't leave for dinner. Or sleep."

She crossed her arms. "What are you proposing, John?"

"Chinese?"

"General Tso chicken and white rice?"

"Anything else?"

She shook her head playfully. "Just make sure you get your own dinner this time. Sharing with chopsticks is cute, but not when I haven't eaten all day."

He mock saluted her. "Yes, ma'am!"

They reached the end of the alleyway and went their separate ways.

TBC … sometime soon!


	3. Chinese and a Movie

Sorry the chapters are so short. I figure it's better to update small than totally ignore it!

* * *

Elizabeth closed her laptop as she felt the extra weight on her shoulder sag tiredly against her. They hadn't even made it half way through the movie before John had started yawning. The takeout containers from the Chinese dinner were left on the coffee table, next to the remote that she lay down after turning off the DVD player.

John moaned into her shoulder. "'Lizbeth … stop moving, please," he grumbled softly.

She turned her head, looking at him with a slight glint in her eyes. "John, it's only 10 o'clock. You really aren't sleepy, are you?"

"Eeh."

She shifted her laptop onto the table. John took advantage to reposition himself, laying down on the sofa with his arms around Elizabeth, bringing her down with him.

She tried to stifle a giggle but failed mostly. "John, wha - oh never mind," she gave in, letting him keep his arms tightly around her.

Spooning against her back, he gently kissed her neck, pulling down the blanket resting on the back of the sofa. "Hey," he murmured quietly.

"Hey yourself," she whispered into thin air.

"Did you get the toxicology report back yet?"

"Yeah, Rodney had just e-mailed it to me." She settled the blanket under her, effectively sandwiching John between her and the sofa back.

"And?"

She smirked. "Detective, you're too tired to finish watching 'Walk the Line' but now is the time you decide to start solving the case?"

"Ya know how many times I have seen that movie? Besides," he replied into her hair, gently kissing the strawberry scent, "the captain is getting a little anxious."

"Jack's just worried about Sam. Her due date is next week."

"I know, but still, I'd like to get this case wrapped up so I can concentrate on a couple other important things."

"Such as?"

He raised his arm around her, pulling her to turn to face him. "I just wanna spend time with you. Work, autopsy reports, I don't wanna worry about any of that." Awkwardly lifting a hand to caress her cheek, he smiled. "If that's okay with you."

"Any time with you, John," replied Elizabeth, "is worth all the hassle."

"Oh, so I'm a hassle?" he retorted, raising a wounded eyebrow playfully at her.

"Constantly," she countered, not missing a beat. "But I wouldn't want anything else."

He smiled at her again, kissing her forehead. "Whatdya say we get some sleep?"

She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "You actually planning on sleeping on the couch?"

"I'll sleep on the floor if you want," he said softly. "As long as it's close to you." He wrapped his arms around her again and hugged her close. "Get some sleep. We'll get back to work in the morning."

TBC ...


	4. Briefings and Thai

All the medical terminology and prescription information is taken from . Feel free to go and do your own research about things; I mainly needed names that I wouldn't get criticized for!

* * *

"All right, so what do we have?"

All the coroners, toxicologists, and medical staff were sitting around the conference room, presenting their schedules for the day, seeing who was available to take on extra shifts, and the like. Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably in her chair as Dr. Richard Woolsey made himself as comfortable as he could under the scrutinizing glares of the staff.

He was a temporary replacement brought in, but even though he had been in the higher ranks of the bureaucracy for years, his expertise wasn't quite on the same level as the rest of the staff. They were accustomed to getting their hands dirty, taking trips back to the scenes to gather extra evidence. He was perfectly content to stay in his office, supervising everyone. She didn't think that he had accompanied anyone into the field since he arrived.

They all knew that it was a short stay. Ever since Sam Carter had been confined to bed rest till her due date, it was general opinion that Elizabeth would assume her duties as chief medical examiner until she returned from maternity leave.

The powers that be had other ideas.

She turned and gave Rodney a supportive glance after hearing him grumble this morning before the meeting started. She slid him a note across the table. "Keep it together," it read.

He attempted a half smile, then paid rapt attention to Elizabeth as she began. "Detectives Sheppard and Lorne have contacted the parents of Alanna Brighton. According to them, their daughter was supposed to be out of the country on vacation this week, but Rodney and myself haven't found any proof that she ever left the area. Toxicology reports came back positive for Capoten in her system."

"She was taking an ACE inhibitor?" Woolsey asked in clarification.

"Yes." Elizabeth could already feel the headache between her eyes beginning to intensify, seeing where this was going.

"And yet, she was found in jogging clothes near a park?"

She groaned inwardly. "That was how it seemed, Dr. Woolsey. And that is why John and Evan are talking with her family and friends, to see if she even _was_ a jogger."

There was a knock on the door that Elizabeth recognized all too well, and she tried to hide her smile before anyone saw it.

"Mind if I join you?" John Sheppard rhetorically asked from the doorway, already making his way into the conference room.

Woolsey eyed him warily. "Not at all, Detective. Perhaps you can enlighten us further about Alanna Brighton."

John nodded. "Well, Lorne and I checked out her place. Lives alone, neighbors said she worked at a lawyer's firm part time as a receptionist. Moved in about seven months ago. Did find some light lifting weights and other jogging clothes. We did bag her prescriptions and found the one that Dr. Weir was talking about. Capitan?" he deliberately mispronounced the drug.

"Capoten," Elizabeth clarified.

John held up the evidence bag. "Script's still good on it. That and some Aleve were the only drugs that she had in her cabinet."

McKay suddenly snapped his fingers. "Sheppard, you said there was Aleve in there?"

"Yeah, so? I carry Aleve in my car. What's your point, McKay?"

"Capoten is an ACE inhibitor. Its job is to relieve the hypertension. Aleve is primarily comprised of sodium and can cause the body to retain salt and water, and sometimes it'll render the ACE inhibitor moot."

John looked at Elizabeth. "English, please, Doc?"

"If Alanna was taking Aleve for, let's say, a recurring headache or her menstrual cycle, it would weaken the effects of her high blood pressure medicine. If she was taking Capoten for diabetes or any other heart problems, it would weaken her heart."

"Enough to the point that she would collapse during a morning jog?"

Elizabeth shrugged. "It's possible. I can't say anything more with any certainty until I begin the autopsy."

"Which you may excuse yourself if you wish to start, Dr. Weir," Woolsey permitted from the end of the table.

She nodded curtly at him and left the room, John and Rodney trailing behind her.

"Are you sure you want to see this? Shouldn't you be with your partner?"

"Ah, Lorne knows how to take care of himself. He'll be okay."

"All right, then. By the way," she said, suddenly stopping in place and extending a hand to John's arm, "I must say I was impressed with how well you played dumb in there."

Not seeming to understand, John narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"

"We both know that if the force didn't work out, you wanted to become a doctor. So don't bother denying it."

John smirked. "But it made McKay mad and get all techno babbly."

"And that just made your day, didn't it?" she asked with a knowing smile.

Still grinning, he followed her into the autopsy room.

* * *

Elizabeth looked over the notes from the autopsy which were now spread out across her desk. The sun was getting ready to set, and that usually meant that a certain dark haired detective would drop by with takeout.

She sighed, then reorganized the photos. As far as she could tell, Alanna Brighton had type 2 diabetes, that being the reason why she was taking an ACE inhibitor. The continuous buildup of Aleve in her system had weakened the effect, but not enough to make her collapse. And there was still nothing to attribute the defensive wounds and dark bruises on her abdomen to.

Right then, John walked in slowly, getting the Thai food on the small end table next to the sofa. "Pad thai?"

"Thanks," she offered, not even glancing up from her paperwork.

John unbagged the food, and as he noticed her stern attention on her work, he quietly asked, "Didn't we just have Chinese yesterday?"

"We've been over this." Eyes still didn't move. "Thai and Chinese are two completely different cultures. Thai will make you forget about New York style Chinese food."

"No, that's something you can't take away from me," he kidded, trying to elicit a smile. Any reaction would have sufficed.

She nodded.

_Not exactly what I was looking for._

He moved closer to her desk and sat on the edge of it. "You okay?"

"This just doesn't make any sense, John. It should be right here in front of me, and I feel like I'm missing a piece of the puzzle and it's just staring me down." Her exhaustion was beginning to take a toll. He could see it happening every day, especially when she had a case that she couldn't solve immediately.

He sighed. "Eat some of your pad thai, then we'll take another crack at this. Okay?"

Her shoulders relaxed. "All right."

He smiled. _Win_.

Leaving her work on the desk, she followed him to the couch and sat down as he handed her the hot entrée. Searching the bag for a pair of chopsticks, he asked, rather jokingly, "So. How was your day?"

She smirked, something she had definitely picked up from him. "I met this really cute guy today."

John wished he hadn't started eating quite so suddenly. In a coughing choke, he managed to gulp down some water as Elizabeth quietly chuckled. "Geez, don't scare me like that!"

"I couldn't help it. I get the same perverse pleasure out of making you jealous as you do annoying Rodney."

"Well, speaking of which, I heard Rodney asked out the new doctor at the clinic."

"Really? You mean Jennifer Keller?"

He nodded while he chewed. "Yep. Think about it, 'Lizbeth. She's blonde, 'beautiful'"- deliberately said with quotation marks - "and she's a doctor. That's McKay's top three right there!"

She inclined her head to the side. "I suppose you're right." She sifted through her pad thai, trying to find another carrot, as she asked, "So what were you saying about Lorne having a girlfriend?"

"Huh?"

"When you got to the scene yesterday, you said you left Evan in the car because he was texting his girlfriend?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Oh, yeah!" He slurped a noodle. "That was more kidding than anything, I think."

"'You think'? All right, John, what's going on?"

"Well, you know Lieutenant Cadman?"

"Yes, actually, we played poker a few times."

"Okay, so - you played poker? With Cadman?" John asked in surprise, chopsticks left leaning precariously against his food.

Elizabeth nodded. "And Keller. And Teyla."

"Teyla plays poker? Does she even know what poker is?"

"Judging by the number of times she has robbed me, I will say yes."

He slumped back in his seat, slightly chuckling. "Wow. There's a whole other side of Elizabeth Weir that I never even knew about."

She shook her head, messing up her curls ever so slightly. John reached over to soothe them out, and just then Elizabeth brought her head back up to meet his eyes.

They both turned away in sync, not wanting anyone still lingering in the offices to notice.

"So. Any new developments?" Dr. Rodney McKay asked, sticking his head in the door, a messenger bag over his shoulder.

"Nothing so far," Elizabeth mumbled through her pad thai.

"Nuh-uh."

Rodney eyes them suspiciously.

John immediately turned the spotlight off of them. "So what about your 'new development'?" he asked with air quotes.

Rodney grimaced. "Okay, it's just one date! Seriously, people, can we hold off on the criticism until date number five, at least?"

"Ya sure it's gonna make it that far?"

Rodney shot him a beady glare then left the office.

TBC ...


	5. Dogs and Dancing

New chapter ... enjoy! Sorry it took me so long to update ... but the fic bunnies threw this at me at one o'clock this morning. Sneaky lil buggers ...

* * *

John left the police station at one o'clock, grabbing lunch on the way to Elizabeth's townhouse. He knew she was working until four, which meant that an adorable golden dog was sitting near the back door, whimpering while holding her leash in her mouth.

John grinned as he opened the door. True enough, the dog was sitting here, howling in discomfort. He almost swore he was crying. If dogs cried, that was.

"Hey Sedge," he greeted, giving him a reassuring pat on the head while grabbing his leash from the hook next to the door. Quickly stashing his lunch in her fridge, he attached the leash and let Sedge pull him out the door.

* * *

When Elizabeth arrived home, an unusual sight welcomed her.

The iPod dock was on, John's iPhone charging on the stand while a soft, slow jazz song played on repeat, she judged as the song ended and began again. The lamp next to the door was on dim, probably in expectation of her coming in. John was laying on the couch, one leg slightly dangling off the cushion as Sedge lay in between his legs, eyes peacefully closed as he faced the human.

She smiled, letting out a quiet chuckle.

Sedge's ears perked up, hearing his owner coming home, and let out a small yelp before jumping off of the couch - and John - and running up to Elizabeth, nuzzling her legs.

"Hey, are you being a good boy?" she asked Sedge, rubbing just behind his ears.

Both the boys in the room moaned.

"Well, he _was_. Until he impaled me," John complained playfully as he sat up on the couch, running a hand through his hand and over his face. He glanced at his watch, then back to Elizabeth. "You're home late. What happened?" he asked, looking to the windows to confirm that it was six thirty.

She shrugged, taking off her jacket in the process. "I stayed to finish my paperwork."

"Geez, you really have that much?"

Her lips twitched upwards in a brief smile. "Well, by myself, I don't. But when Woolsey decides to dump part of Sam's load on me, _then_ it becomes a lot."

John winced in sympathy. "Sounds like a great guy."

"He knows how to look good to the bureaucracy. Then he wanted to know where I was at with the Brighton case."

"Speaking of which," he said, standing up, "Lorne called when I was walking Sedge. Said they did find a camera in the back alley. He was gonna review it and run all the faces from that hour through the system, see if we get any hits."

Elizabeth nodded slowly. "I still can't determine her exact cause of death. Preliminary, I want to say, acute abdominal trauma exacerbated by the effects of her diabetes. I'm not usually this behind in a case."

John gave her a knowing look. "'Lizbeth … could it be due to an unnecessary distraction?"

She inclined her head, crossing her arms. "What do you mean?"

He gestured a hand between them. "Me. Us. This. Is it - I mean, could it be-"

"No." Her answer was firm.

"Ya sure?" he questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Between me and you, our cases have the most successful solve rate of any other ME and detective combined. We work well together, we know that. 'Us' is not a problem." She sat down at the kitchen table, then slowly turned her attention to the music that suddenly increased in volume. Not much, but just enough to notice.

The song was "Crazy Love" but not the original Van Morrison version. It was the cover done by Michael Buble. She knew because she had been the one to download it onto his iPhone.

John smirked, holding a hand out to her. "Dance?"

Her stare softened. "John…"

"C'mon, 'Lizbeth. You know you wanna," he teased.

She nodded, a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth as she stood.

John pulled her into his arms, starting to whisper the lyrics.

"_Yes, I need her in the daytime, ooh but I need her in the night_." He gently twirled her in his embrace, so when she stepped back in, her back was against his chest, her strawberry tinted hair in his face as their bodies kept swaying to the soft rhythm. "_Yes, I wanna throw my arms around her, and kiss and hug, kiss and hug her tight._" He turned her again, she softly giggled, as he cupped her cheek. "_And when I'm returning from so far away, she give me some sweet lovin, brighten up my day. Yes, it makes me righteous, it makes me feel whole. And it makes me mellow, down to my soul_."

"_She gives me love, love, love, love, crazy love_," Michael kept singing as John and Elizabeth became only aware of the two of them, standing here, holding each other as closely as they could.

"Crazy love, huh?" John asked, gripping her hands even tighter in his, being careful not to completely crush them.

With a faint nod, she mustered up what words she could call to mind and replied, "Yeah. Crazy."

John smiled, then pointed to himself. "Me, crazy. You, love."

"Okay, Tarzan, knock it off," she answered while slightly beaming, seeing through his stupor.

"I love you," he quietly admitted, glancing at his shoes, then hastily looked back to the woman in his arms, licking his lips in slight nervousness.

Elizabeth was taken back. Their relationship felt so comfortable; had they ever even said "I love you" before? She could have sworn so, but from the warm feeling in her chest, she promptly decided that this was indeed the first time. And now, she tried her best to think of the right reply to the man whose firm but kind gaze had her melting at the knees.

John looked at her with puppy eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she answered breathlessly. "I just - we've never said that before."

"Well," he reminded her, smirk starting to shine through, "_I've_ said it. The press is still waiting on your response."

For the first time in a long while, the highly intelligent, wordly wise Elizabeth Weir, failed to think of anything to say.

"No comment," she murmured in a flash as she put her hands around John's neck and pulled her to him, lips answering in a different way.

John responded in kind, testing out the waters slowly. The tip of his tongue briefly darted and touched her lip, and Elizabeth relaxed, pulling her body closer to his and sighing.

He broke the kiss, placing one more on her lips before moving his head back to look at her.

Seeing the relief on her face, he almost started laughing.

"What?" she asked as the smile began to grow.

"It's about time," he whispered, pulling her face to his and the process started again, kissing her all over again.

Sedge began to nudge at their knees.

Elizabeth broke a hand free and swatted him away.

Sedge jumped back up on the couch and watched the rest what felt like their first kiss.

TBC ...


	6. Reminiscing and Canvassing

__

Saturday morning. 10:30 am.

The pile of paperwork on John's desk was slowly decreasing until he reached the file that used to be on top.

"Alanna Brighton," he read aloud, simultaneously thinking about Elizabeth.

"Funny you should mention it," Evan Lorne said as he brushed past John to his own desk, facing his partner. He held up a folder. "We just got the video stills back from the camera in the alley. There were only seven people there, but Alanna was seen with a man, wearing a hoodie. But he turned his face," he told him, handing him an enhanced picture.

John took it, looking it over carefully. "We got a name yet?"

Lorne shook his head. "Still running it through the DMV. If nothing hits around DC, we'll expand the search."

"How's it comin, boys?"

Sheppard and Lorne straightened in their chairs, just slightly. "Captain, I thought you'd be at the hospital."

Captain Jack O'Neill shrugged. "Yeah, that's what I thought. Until Carter told me I'm not on maternity leave and get back to work, she'd call if anything happens."

"Sounds like Sam," John remarked.

"Yup. So, anything new with the Brighton case?"

John turned the photo over to him, explaining, "We got a hit from the video camera, but we're still running it through the DMV. So far, nothing."

Jack nodded. "Has Elizabeth found anything else?" he enquired, laying the photo back on top of the file.

"Yeah, she said cause of death was blunt force trauma exacerbated by her medical condition. Probably a mugging gone wrong. At least, that's the premise that we're working under right now."

Lorne stood, reattaching his badge to his belt. "We're getting ready to canvas the businesses and residences in the vicinity, this time with the picture. See if it jogs their memory."

"All right. Let me know what you find," Jack approved as he walked away into his office.

John watched after him, sighing. "He really shouldn't be here."

Evan just shrugged. "You know Sam as well as I do. I imagine she's even more intimidating when she's pregnant and on bed rest."

John shook his head. "I take it back. He's hiding out here." He followed suit and stood as well, grabbing his jacket off the back of the chair, picking up the file once his arms were free again.

Throwing a sympathetic glance back to his captain's office, Detective Sheppard left the station.

* * *

Jack looked at the folders on his desk which were slowly trickling in. He reached over them, ignoring them for a moment, to pick up a framed picture that was starting to look lonely.

He and Sam had danced around how they felt for years, trying to date other people, almost married once, before they got their heads knocked together. They never could get an answer to the all-important question: can we still work together?

Finally, they got an answer.

"It hasn't seemed to bother your work over the last eight years. I don't see why getting married would change anything."

Daniel Jackson was a professor at Georgetown University. When he wasn't gallivanting around the globe, dusting off some old artifact. The archeologist had become friends with Jack ages ago, when he had just made detective. The case had called for an archeologist, and they sent this nerd.

He and Jack eventually learned how not to kill each other, and became good friends.

About a year after that, a new medical examiner showed up at the district ME's office. Jack remembered pacing a crime scene, grunting as someone said, "Dr. Carter should show up soon."

He promptly made some comment about the doctor. "New in town, eh? Where's he from?"

"_She_ just finished her internship in New York," a distinctly _feminine_ voice declared behind him.

Jack had stood slowly from examining the body and held in a breath.

The blonde woman glanced at him. "I take it you're Detective O'Neill?"

He nodded. At least, that's how it was supposed to come across.

"Doctor Samantha Carter. Nice to meet you. So, what do we have here?"

"You go by Sam, don't you?"

"Yes. What's the story?"

After some persistent jabbing, they eventually wound up friends.

Jack admitted that Carter, as he preferred to call her, was hot. But she was still "one of the guys". And she worked for the ME. Being dependant on their reports and autopsy findings, it was a sticky situation to be in a relationship with one.

Until the powers that be basically said, "These feelings haven't interfered with work before. Keep it that way."

Carter had just lost her father to cancer, and her fiancé had been sent packing back to Baltimore.

He came to her apartment late one night.

Awkwardly, he held a bag of Chinese takeout in one hand. In the other, the latest season of "The Simpsons" to be released on DVD.

Two months later, they were on their honeymoon.

He smiled in remembrance as he looked intently at their wedding photo. It had been simple and quiet, very unlike their rather long "courtship". But it worked out best that way; the people closest to them had attended the wedding and sent them to Minnesota on their honeymoon.

Life resumed as normal when they returned.

Until about thirty-five weeks ago.

He grinned, seeing the small copy of the sonogram that Sam had placed in the corner of their wedding photo. With Sheppard's help, he was making a slightly larger picture with some generic "you+me=not-yet-named" scribbled in the corner. He already saw it hanging in the baby's nursery. Right next to the poster of the Simpsons family.

His phone beeped once. "Sir, Dr. Weir is on line two."

He picked up the receiver. "Elizabeth. Was just about to call you."

"You're still a horrible liar, Jack," she replied on the other end. "How are you?"

"I'm good. Sam's good. We're good. How are you? Ya good?"

She chuckled. "Well, better now. I cleared Alanna Brighton's body for release. The autopsy results were conclusive with the footage that Jo - sorry, Detective Sheppard - found from the alley. Her body was already in a weakened state, and the physical trauma was too much. She literally gave out. I've just finished emailing you the report."

He pushed his mouse around. "Yeah, got it. So what's up with you and Sheppard?"

"What?"

"C'mon, I just finished the same dance. Something's going on, don't bother to deny it. You're unusually cheery and I caught Sheppard daydreaming this morning. Elizabeth?" he quietly begged, adding a slight whine that usually annoyed her.

It still worked. "We're talking."

"Uh huh …"

"Jack, drop it. If you hear anything, it should be from your subordinate, not the coroner."

He groaned in resignation. "Fine."

"All right. Anything else?"

"Nope, that's all, Doc. Thanks."

"You're welcome. Bye."

He hung up the receiver, then began searching his computer for that picture.

"Captain?" a blue shirt knocked on his door.

_Oy. This was going to be a long day._

_

* * *

_

This was going to be a long day

, Evan Lorne silently grumbled as he and his partner entered yet another business.

A small Spanish bakery, run by a family. They'd come in here a few times before for a quick break.

"?_Hola, como estas?"_ he asked the young lady behind the counter.

"_Muy bien, gracias_," she replied, gracing him with a small smile.

Beside him, John rolled his eyes. "How ya doin, Maya?"

"Just fine, Detective, and yourself?"

He shrugged. "Can't complain. _Especially_ if you would box up one of those for me," he asked, pointing to a delicious looking fudge brownie on the cooling rack.

She nodded enthusiastically, black curls bouncing. "Sure! Anything for you, Detective Lorne?"

"Just a coffee, please. Thanks."

"Black with sugar?"

He grinned as she started preparing it, having just handed John his brownie. His face lit up in glee as he opened the Styrofoam container. "Ooh, right out of the oven! Thanks, Maya!"

"No problem! Can I get anything else for you?" she asked, giving Evan his coffee and accepting the money they held out to her.

"Actually, we have a bit of business," Evan told her, pulling the small cropped photo out of his inner jacket pocket.

Maya took it as John explained, "There was a young woman found in the alley a few blocks down three nights ago. This man was there at the same time. Do you remember seeing anyone fitting that description, or anyone wearing a black hoodie?"

"Three nights ago? We were closed," she answered, handing the picture back to them. "_Mi hermano _cut himself rather badly, we had to take him to the hospital. We left about … umm, six o'clock? We didn't even finish cleaning that night."

John nodded, content with her reply. "All right, well, thanks for this, Maya. See you again soon!"

"Thanks for stopping in. Evan, good to see you again," she bid farewell, smiling.

"Tell Juan I hope he feels better," he told her as he made his way to the door.

"I will. Bye."

As the door chain jingled behind them, they walked back to their car. As John got in on the driver's side, Evan set his coffee on top of the car. "Hey, John, hold up."

"What is it?" he asked through the partially open door.

Evan pointed to a car across the street. "See that white car right there?"

"Uh huh?"

Lorne narrowed his eyes, then pulled out his cell phone. "Hey, it's Lorne. I need you to run a set of plates for me."

After the tech processed it and sent him an email, he ended the call, opening the email on his Blackberry as he pulled his coffee into the car with him.

"Lorne? Left me hanging?"

"Sorry. I was just thinking, there's a case from a few weeks ago, somebody reported a car like that missing. Those are new plates," Lorne mentioned, still observing the vehicle.

John stared in disbelief. "We're trying to find a murderer and you're messing around with a car theft? Evan, where's your head? Oh, wait, I already know the answer. It's in the bakery."

Evan scoffed at him. "Oh, c'mon, that was just being polite. I actually got raised with some manners."

John was about to retort when his iPhone rang. When he pulled it into view, Lorne glanced at the picture on the caller ID.

"Speaking of location of heads," he tossed at his partner.

Glaring at Lorne, he answered. "Sheppard. Hey. What? Yeah, text it to me. We'll be right there."

He laid his phone on the armrest and started the car, putting it into drive. "That was Elizabeth. They've found another body. Same M.O. Jogger."

"Where at?"

"East Potomac Park. Elizabeth is texting the exact address … right about … now."

The phone vibrated.

"Punch it in," John told him as he turned on the lights, trying to clear his way through traffic.

"Think it's related?" Lorne asked, broaching the thought that had been hanging in the air behind the statements.

Sheppard groaned. "I sure hope not. A serial killer with a fixation for joggers is not something I wanna deal with right now. We'll find out more when we get there."

TBC …


	7. Scene of the Crime, Take Two

Sorry it's taken so long to update … the fic bunnies went on strike. And so did the internet. GRRRR.

Enjoy!

And if anyone has any suggestions or feedback, leave a review or shoot me a PM. I just look like I know what I'm writing about with regards to the medical stuff. ;-)

Also, this story is starting to develop a little bit more, and I've thrown a few clues into this chapter. Try and find them. Heh.

* * *

Elizabeth was sitting on her haunches, silently thankful she had worn the comfortable gray jogging shoes that she kept in her office for when she needed a break. The situation was sadly similar to the recent death of Alanna Brighton, which even though they knew how she died, there still wasn't anyone to blame.

Smacking herself mentally for comparing the cases, she cleared her mind and continued her prelim examination.

She sighed, then turned her head as she heard a car pull up.

John got out of the driver's side, Evan Lorne out of the passenger door. She smiled. "Hey," she called out.

Lorne nodded at her. "Dr. Weir."

"Elizabeth. What did you find?" he asked, kneeling next to her.

"So far, blunt force trauma in the abdomen. Seems like she was punched repeatedly."

Sheppard winced, and Elizabeth knew why. He hated abuse of women in any way, shape, or form, and was determined to bring those kinds of criminals to justice. It sounded slightly cheesy, but she knew that he had seen his mother treated harshly by his father during his childhood. He didn't want that kind of pain inflicted on anyone who didn't deserve it.

"I know you're gonna say it, but-"

"She's a jogger. Marks already interviewed the couple who found her. Said she's a regular. Runs along this path every afternoon."

Behind them, Lorne groaned. "Two joggers attacked within days of each other? You've gotta be kidding me!"

"Lorne, let's not go off on a tangent, not yet, at least. We have to treat this as coincidence," he reminded him, glancing at Elizabeth with a shrug, "even though we know it's probably not."

She nodded in agreement. "There also seems to be foreign tissue under her nails, probably from self-defense. I'll know more once I get her back to autopsy."

"All right, do what you need to do," he said, granting her leave as he stood, moving to join Lorne.

* * *

"Wide open area, no security cameras, massive amounts of people moving through … we're gonna have a harder time canvassing this," John acknowledged, running a hand through his hair.

"Let's start with the couple that Marks is talking to," Lorne suggested, shaking his head in the direction of the blue shirt standing next to a couple in their forties.

The two detectives made their way over to Marks, taking in the scene. A squad of police cruisers blocked off the main entrances to the immediate area, diverting people to sidewalks leading away from the scene of the crime. Elizabeth and a technician were loading the body into the van, and just as John reached the older couple, she gave him a weary but comforting smile, then got in the van and headed out.

John got his head out of the clouds, clearing his throat.

"Detective Sheppard, Detective Lorne, this is Brenda and Jake Cartwright. They were jogging when they came upon the body."

John nodded politely at Marks, who took his leave.

Evan pulled out a notepad. "You normally run this path, every day?"

"Always," Brenda replied. "The doctor told us to keep as regular as we could, so we might miss one day a week, but we're always here. We could always spot Jackie running in her bright orange jacket. Said she wore it so no cars would risk hitting her."

"Do you have any idea how it happened?" Jake asked, grasping his arm tighter around his wife. John could tell from looking at her that the reality of the situation was starting to hit home. They had found a dead body. And it was someone they knew.

It always made it tough to cope.

John shook his head. "The coroner will do her job, but she might not be able to give us information that we need."

"Such as?" Jake asked, standing a little straighter.

"How well did you know Jackie?"

He shrugged. "Just from running. We would start at the same place, and we would end earlier, but sometimes we would jog together. She lived a few blocks away from us, nice area. Townhouse, I think."

"Did you ever see anybody suspicious while you were running with her?"

Brenda smiled sadly. "In a big city like this, you _always_ see suspicious people. It's better to ignore and avoid them."

"It's getting late, and we have plans for this evening. Can we take your card, if we think of anything?"

John pulled one out of his pocket. "Anything, big or small, could be a big help. My phone's always on. Marks?" He raised his hand, calling the younger cop back over.

"Marks will escort you out of the area."

"Thanks for your time," Lorne added as they started walking away, the soft chill in the air becoming more pronounced as the circumstances became more grim.

"So. No suspects, no cameras. Where do we start?"

"At the beginning. Let's get into her place, her work, pull her history, find out who she is. Then we'll find out why anybody would want to kill her."

* * *

Elizabeth was stripping off her scrubs outside the prelim autopsy room, making a disgruntled noise in her throat. Rodney was passing the corner, staring intently at his tablet computer as he almost passed her.

"Elizabeth? Everything all right?" he asked in mild concern.

"For the most part," she replied with a curt nod. She began to pace back to her office, her fellow scientist keeping in step with her. "It just seems too strange to have such similar cases rolling in here. First, Alanna Brighton. Now, Jackie Cooper," she informed him, handing Rodney the file to examine for himself.

He took the file and sat down in front of her desk. "Hmm. And exactly, uh, how similar are the cases?"

"Both joggers, women in their late twenties, rising professionals, spotless backgrounds. Alanna had diabetes, but Jackie had an absolute clean bill of health. Other than that," she answered, sitting on the other side of her desk, "the cases are almost identical."

"Except for the location of the murders," Rodney murmured as he read the file. Absentmindedly, he handed her a folder tucked into the case of the tablet. "Oh, uh, here. Forgot about this. It's the, um, the final workup on Alanna Brighton's bloodwork. Confirmed your diagnosis of diabetes and the Aleve, and everything else is in there."

"Thank you," she responded with narrowing eyes.

She contemplated her next query for a silent moment.

"Rodney?"

"Hmm?"

"When's the last time you got a full night's sleep?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Leaning back in her high-back chair, crossing her arms, she waited on him to answer with a small triumphant smile.

"Elizabeth, there has been a _ton_ of work to do around here since Sam is gone-"

"Radek could help," she offered with a shrug.

"Yeah, yeah, but if I have to double check it after he's done, what's the point? Anyhow, I'm still on top of my case load," he retorted, flailing his arms just slightly.

Elizabeth glanced at the dark haired man that appeared in her doorway behind Rodney, unknown to him, and winked.

"So. How's Jennifer?" John drawled out as he entered her office.

"Oh, you know what? That's just great! You know, I - I thought we were above stooping to office gossip," Rodney snapped, head turning rapidly between the two of them.

"Rodney, there hasn't been any gossip," Elizabeth spoke, an honest shake of her head accompanying it. Leaning forward on the desk, she continued. "But it is obvious that you haven't been sleeping like you normally do-"

"You can say _that _again," quickly and quietly flew out of John's mouth.

Elizabeth shot him a reprimanding glare, then looked back to Rodney.

"Sheppard, I really don't see how this is any of your business," Rodney shot back, his turn to glare at John.

The detective faked a hurt expression and sat down on the couch, picking up the file off the desk as he passed. "Just don't tell anyone I'm here, and I'll never bring it up again."

"Promise?"

Holding the manila folder open, John glanced up at him. "You really ask too much, you know that?"

"Okay, boys, playtime is over. Thank you, Rodney, that's all."

Rodney groaned and left the room.

Elizabeth looked over at John, a content smirk on his face as he read the report. "When are the two of you going to stop bickering all the time?" she asked, good naturedly.

"When he learns to accept that I really am smarter than he is."

He felt Elizabeth's eyes burning on him, causing him to look up.

"What? I found his Mensa test. I can _prove_ it."

The smirk never faded.

"So. Was your afternoon as unproductive as mine was?" she asked, looking at the clock on the wall that was ominously approaching seven o'clock.

"Pretty much. Still waiting on a hit from the man on camera in the Brighton case. And Jackie Cooper's background is spotless. Family is from Maine, supposed to be in tomorrow. That way, you get your positive identification, and I get to tell another family, face to face, that they've lost someone. Don't we have great jobs?" he asked sarcastically, dropping the file to the side and running his hands over his face.

Elizabeth observed John reflectively for a moment. In the field, in the office, he always appeared to be so stiff, so unaffected. But behind closed doors, in those rare moments when his guard slipped down, she could see how torn up he was inside. Even if he did his job at the end of the day, how could he make it up to all the families that he had to bear the bad news to?

She sighed as he loosened his tie, ultimately discarding it next to him.

"It's late. I'm sure Sedge would be happy to see you," she suggested, putting her newer files under lock and key in her drawer. She stood and walked around the desk to collect the file that John had abandoned on the couch.

He slowly shook his head. "That's okay. I think I'm gonna head back to my place tonight. I did promise Ronan I'd meet him for a drink. Haven't seen him in a while."

"How's business coming?"

"Well, once he convinced me he wasn't a hit man for hire," he told her as he stood, drawing a laugh from her lips, "it started coming together much better."

She nodded. "All right. Well, the offer still stands if you change your mind."

"All right. In any case," he leaned in, kissing her forehead, "I'll see you in the morning. Bright and early." The sarcasm wasn't lost on her.

"Be safe, John," she whispered, eyes quickly meeting his hazel ones.

"Always. Bye." One last kiss, then he walked out of the office, running a weary hand through his hair.

She looked at the folder in her hands, then caught sight of something on the couch.

Simultaneously, John breezed back into the office. He smiled cheekily at her, leaning over to pick up his tie. "It's my favorite."

"Uh-huh."

"I'm not risking Sedge getting any more playtoys from me. He already went through one pair of work shoes."

Before he slipped out again, she put her hands around his neck and pulled him tight to her, kissing him soundly but firmly on the lips.

His hands immediately flew behind her back, holding her tight for two seconds until he realized that Woolsey was probably still in the building, and she didn't need anymore grief than she had already gotten.

He loosened his grip, touching his forehead with his. "I'll see you in the morning," he quietly said in a husky voice.

She only smiled after him as he left the room.

* * *

John entered the busy bar that many of this city's finest would frequent on the weekends or after their shift was over. He nodded to a few and made his way over to the bar, shooting a glance at the bartender.

"Hey, Sheppard. What'll you have?"

"Uh, let's try something different. Scotch on the rocks."

She nodded and set to making his drink as a heavy hand clamped on his shoulder.

"Hey, buddy," Ronan Dex greeted as he took the seat next to John.

"Hey. Long time, no see, huh?"

"It would be longer if you'd stop serving me warrants."

John raised his hands in defense. "Hey! You're the one that didn't get the proper permits and everything. You can't have a shooting range inside your own place, even if you have bulletproof walls."

"If I shoot unmoving targets in my place, I shoot less outside. I'm doing you a favor, Sheppard," Ronan replied with a grin.

"Yeah, yeah. So what's up?"

He shrugged. "Not much."

"Still not cutting the dreds off?"

"Just got used to them."

"Ah. So …"

"Here ya go," Amelia said as she set his drink in front of him. With a subtle wink at Ronan, she asked, "And for you, big guy?"

"Just a beer, thanks." He pretended not to notice the gesture.

She grabbed a cold glass and opened the tap. John looked incredulously at his friend. "Are you kidding me? McKay and Keller, you and Banks-"

"You and Dr. Weir?" Ronan added straight faced.

John was about to retort, but quickly bit his lip. "How many people actually know?"

"You told me when you started going out, buddy. People are mostly guessing."

"Huh." He threw the scotch back a little quicker than he usually did, hastily swallowing the liquid as it burned just slightly at the back of his throat. "You and Banks? Really?"

"When the station hired Ronan as a consultant," Amelia filled in, bringing him his beer, "we took the same kick-boxing class."

"She actually scared me the first time we worked out together. Thought we was gonna kill me."

John chuckled. "Who knew?"

Amelia took in the other customers that had just seated themselves at the bar, then dismissed herself. "Be back in a bit."

"So," Ronan asked, picking up his beer glass, "what's going on with you and Dr. Weir?"

"We're … taking it slow. Work's been a little crazy right now."

"Yeah, that's what I heard. Anything I can do?"

"A favor?"

He shrugged. "I owe you one."

John pulled a picture out of his lapel pocket. "This man was caught on video assaulting a young woman on her morning jog. Alanna Brighton? We ran it through everything, but no hits. Our techs said the photo was altered. Check with your contacts, see if he looks vaguely familiar to anyone."

"And if he does?" Ronan asked curiously, taking the picture and analyzing it.

Picking up his glass again, John replied wryly, "I'll get you a corner office."

Ronan grinned, picked up his beer again, and clinked it with John's glass.

"Deal."

* * *

TBC…


	8. Morning Runs and Labor Pains

Sorry for the delay in posting this. When RL takes over, it's hard to climb out!

* * *

John began his run a little earlier than most, at five thirty in the morning, taking a path near a small coffee shop that he and Elizabeth favored, grabbing a few things, then walking a few blocks to her small townhouse.

It was almost six when he arrived. As he pulled out his key, trying to balance the coffees and the bag of pastries, he heard a whining and scraping from the other door.

"Sedge," he warned between gritted teeth. "You wake up 'Lizbeth and you don't get any leftovers."

Another small yelp, then the scratching stopped.

John smirked. "Good boy," he remarked quietly as he opened the door, seeing Sedge waiting patiently inside the kitchen. He dropped his keys on the small entry table and set the coffee and bag on the countertop, leaning over to give the loyal dog a head rub. "How ya doing, huh? Wanna go running with us?"

Almost as if in understanding, Sedge shook his head and softly padded into the living room, back to his cushion near the sofa.

John sighed. "I tried."

"Tried what?" an exhausted voice asked him as she walked down the flight of stairs, emptying her into the kitchen. She tightened her blue robe around her, the chill in the air apparent.

He shrugged. "I asked Sedge if he wanted to come running with us."

"Hmm. Sedge is turning into too much of a lap dog. It seems the only way he ever gets exercise is when you take him for a walk," she noticed, reaching for the cup of coffee that John held out to her.

He retracted his arm simultaneously. "Uh uh uh …" he said, tone of voice warning but jovial as he wagged his eyes at her.

She chuckled, then cupped his cheeks and kissed him. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you, too. How'd you sleep?" he asked, now well pleased as he handed her the coffee cup.

"Having only slept four hours, not bad."

"Elizabeth," John groaned, setting his own cup back down, "you can't keep this up forever."

"What?" she asked innocently.

"Staying up late working? I know you wanna get these cases closed, but you've gotta start getting some sleep. Otherwise, Woolsey's gonna take you off the case and assign somebody like … Kavanaugh."

Elizabeth gave him a bemused, if not horrified, expression. "John, I'm doing my job."

"You're supposed to do your job when you can see the sun!"

"So are you! How do you think I feel, knowing you're out on the streets dealing with God only knows what, when you can't see a thing?"

He sighed, dejectedly. She made her point. Just like she always did.

"I can't pick my schedule. We've been over this."

"Neither can I," she granted, slumping her shoulders as she crossed her arms, the coffees forgotten on the counter for a moment.

John nodded, sliding his hands into his pockets. "We knew from the beginning that this wasn't gonna be perfect. There's always gonna be a few bumps in the road. But, if we handle them the right way, it'll make us even stronger." He leaned over, giving her a soft kiss on her cheek. "It'll be okay."

She leaned her head against his shoulder, slowly exhaling. "You're right. Anyhow, I've been thinking."

"Yeah?" he asked softly, tilting his head slightly to see the soft curls next to him. "About what?"

"Work."

John groaned. "I forbid you to talk about work until we've run at least a mile. Got it?"

She smiled. "Fine. Then let me go get dressed," she said, taking her cup again and walking towards the stairs, moving her hips a little more than necessary.

"I'll help you," John replied with a low growl, and gave chase.

Elizabeth quickly shrieked as John raced her to the first step, then watched with a smile as she went back upstairs.

* * *

Evan Lorne groaned as he sat down at his desk, plopping into the chair loudly as Detective Sheppard cast him a humored look. "So. How's Cadman?"

"She's wearing me out."

John wrinkled his face. "_Not_ what I asked, Lorne. Geez."

"No, not like that," Lorne groaned, repositioning papers and files on his desk. "Get your mind outta the gutter, John."

John only shrugged, motioning for Evan to continue.

"We've been up late just talking. Even though we've worked together for a long time, there is still so much that I don't know about her. It's been … refreshing," Lorne admitted with a small smile.

John chuckled. "I know the feeling."

He heard the door to the captain's office slam. Jack O'Neill was running out, trying to wrangle his jacket on. "Sheppard, Lorne, let's go."

"Sir?" John asked, face furrowed in confusion.

"Sam's in labor." He stopped abruptly in front of their desks. "And she made me promise not to drive. Thinks I'll have a wreck on the way to the hospital."

The detectives stood up, John taking the lead out of the door. As soon as the doors shut, he threw on the sirens and raced to the hospital.

* * *

"I'm gonna kill Jack!"

"You are aware that he wasn't the only one responsible for this?" Teyla Emmagan asked, lips pulled upwards in a derisive chuckle.

Sam panted in her bed. "I know, I know, I know," she repeated out of impatience more than anything.

Someone knocked at the door. She looked up and saw her doctor opening the door, holding her hands in front of her. "How are you feeling, Sam?" Janet Frasier asked, sympathetically smiling at her longtime friend.

"She has already expressed her desire to kill her husband on more than one occasion," Teyla commented quickly and withdrew from the bed, allowing the doctor to come nearer to Sam and check her vitals.

"That's normal," Sam gritted through her teeth.

Janet moved from the heart monitor around to the end of the bed and looked to see how far along she was. She groaned.

"What? What's wrong? Janet, tell me!"

"You're already dilated pretty far. I'm not sure if Jack will be here in time. Baby's in a hurry."

Sam had to laugh. "John Sheppard is driving him."

Teyla raised her eyebrows. "Then I am surprised that they haven't already arrived."

"How much longer do you honestly think, Janet?"

"Not much longer, Sam."

* * *

TBC

Sorry it was so short, but if you R&R I'll write longer chapters!


	9. A Serial Suspect and Frantic Detectives

Longer chapter in reward for your patience! And we finally start getting somewhere! The plot bunnies thank you for giving into their ransom demands ... Heh.

Special thanks for a review left by Eris, who corrected me on a technicality. Thanks for your help! :D

* * *

John pulled the car up under the roof where the ambulances normally parked, knowing that his captain would flash his badge to anybody who stood in his way.

Anybody who didn't accept that would probably get punched.

Jack threw the door open before John even slowed the car completely, almost jumping out and running through the sliding doors. Even with the windows up, he could hear him shouting, "Excuse me! Coming through! Police emergency!"

Lorne chuckled behind him. "Sam would have a cow if she heard the captain shouting like that just to get to her. She's the most unpretentious person I know."

"Makes you wonder why McKay was attracted to her, huh? Anyhow," he said, shifting back into drive to go park in a legal space, "Sam's about to have a cow, literally. I'd kinda like to be there."

"Why?" Lorne asked, face scrunched in a frown.

"So I can rub it in McKay's face."

Evan snickered.

* * *

Across town at the morgue, Elizabeth sat at her desk, rubbing her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. The morning run with John was exactly what she needed to start her usual routine. She had picked up another cup of coffee on the way to work, then as she exited the elevator, her cheery mood disintegrated immediately. She swore that Woolsey had been standing there, tapping his foot impatiently as he checked his watch as he waited for her.

"Good morning," she had greeted, holding her laptop bag over her shoulder while trying to awkwardly and quickly pass him.

His cold tone stopped her. "You're late, Dr. Weir."

She sighed. Holding up her wrist in front of her, in plain view of Woolsey, she replied, "It's 7:58. When I actually clock in, it will be 8 o'clock. I'm not late."

"According to the schedule," he retorted, holding up a tablet computer in front of him, "you were supposed to arrive at 7 o'clock."

She narrowed her eyebrows. _How could he be this cynical? He used to be a coroner. He knows how we work._ "Am I to assume that you have been standing in front of the elevator for an hour, Dr. Woolsey, neglecting your work at the same time?"

He had opened his mouth to reply but quickly shut it. Elizabeth did a mental arm pump. _I must've learned that from John._

"Dr. Zelenka and I traded shifts today. He wanted to come in earlier to use the lab before everyone else hustled in." She glanced at the tablet he held. "I sent you an e-mail to inform you. Did you not get it?"

He sighed, then began tapping on the screen.

Elizabeth slowly paced away from the elevator, moving into her office and setting her bag down next to her file cabinet. Her desk seemed to have grown even more manila envelopes since last night. Even the ones that she had brought home with her last night seemed to have increased exponentially. She sat down and began her work.

She eventually removed her hand from her eyes, groaning. Just then, her Blackberry began buzzing in her pocket.

She checked the message she received.

_Sam went into labor. At hospital with O'Neill. Don't tell McKay. :) Love you. John._

She smiled brightly. Well, at least _one_ good thing was happening in the world today.

* * *

Radek left the lab, muttering something in Czech, as Rodney rolled his eyes and glared at the computer screen, almost trying to will it into submission.

_There has to be a match in there, somewhere_.

The computer stopped searching with a victorious beep.

"Thank you," he muttered in desperation.

As the identification scrolled in front of him, his eyes widened.

_Oh crap._

He unplugged the tablet and ran to Elizabeth's office.

"Elizabeth?"

She looked up sharply at him, concern evident in her eyes. "Rodney. What's wrong?"

"Remember the skin scrapings that we found under the fingernails on victim number two?"

"Yes, what about them?"

"Well, I was able to determine that they belonged to a Caucasian male, probably early to mid thirties. I ran it through a couple other databases, then sent the search nationwide, which can be excruciatingly long because-"

"Rodney. Specifics," she requested.

Normally, he would've rolled his eyes in a belittling manner, but he respected Elizabeth. And he admitted he was rambling on and on. "We got a hit."

It was her turn to be shocked. "Where?"

"Tampa, Florida," the Canadian replied, handing her the tablet for personal inspection.

A stern yet mild-mannered face appeared on the screen. "Lieutenant Shawn Walston. Formerly stationed at MacDill AFB."

Rodney took a seat in front of her, ready to explain more.

"Lieutenant Walston was reprimanded by his superiors for conduct unbecoming with another officer. The next week, the other officer went on her usual morning run and vanished. They questioned him, but couldn't find anything to connect him to her disappearance." He reached over and tapped a control, not being oblivious to the expression of uneasiness that was growing on Elizabeth's face.

"Her body was found on a dirt road outside of the base, about two days later. Brutally beaten."

Elizabeth leaned back in her chair, bringing her hands to her falling face. "Oh my God."

Rodney took a gulp. "There's more."

"More?"

He nodded dejectedly. The control must've been a slideshow, for newspaper clippings and more pages appeared, rolling past them like a thunderstorm. "About a week afterwards, another female officer, a chief master sergeant, went missing."

"While on her usual run?"

He couldn't even bring himself to nod. He saw the look on her face as she rapidly pieced everything together. "What happened to Walston?"

"After the second body was found, he disappeared. As of now, he is considered AWOL after deserting his unit."

"So no recent address, no recent activity?"

"That's up to Sheppard. He's gotta run that. He's got connections. He can probably get more information than I can, even with my insane hacking skills."

She picked her Blackberry up again, hitting the speed dial while she put the Bluetooth earpiece in.

With all his brilliance, he wasn't shocked that they finally found him. But the normal elation of a job well done was offset by the gloominess of the situation they now found themselves in.

This wasn't some freak trend.

This was a serial case.

* * *

John felt his iPhone vibrating in his pocket as he stepped away from the grunting pregnant woman in the room.

Once in the hallway, he pulled the phone out, checking the picture on the touch screen.

"Elizabeth?"

"John, I need you to run a name for me. It's Air Force."

"Suspect?" he asked, pursing his lips in expectation.

"Yes. John," she told him, worry unmistakable in her voice, "he's connected to two missing female lieutenants in Florida. This doesn't appear to be an isolated incident."

He groaned, running a hand through his hair. This was _exactly_ the news that he was hoping not to hear.

"All right, I'll tell the captain, and we'll be there in a bit. Go ahead and give me the name, I'll have Davis run it for me."

"The name is Shawn Walston, lieutenant, first class. Last known location was Tampa, Florida, at MacDill."

"Got it. Be there soon. Bye." He hung up with her, then called one Major Paul Davis.

He had long ago gotten the direct number to his office, making it much easier to contact him. Ever since John had moved to Washington, the Pentagon had referred Major Davis to the police department as a liaison of sorts, for cases that had civilian jurisdiction that AFOSI could let them deal with. There had been quite a few times where some of John's cases had to be turned over to NCIS or AFOSI, but if it was the latter Davis would keep him updated, letting him know if they caught the bad guys.

They'd have a drink to celebrate, then part until the next major catastrophe.

John gritted his teeth as he was briefly put on hold. The gap between cases was getting way too close.

* * *

Jack O'Neill didn't enjoy having his hand crushed.

Sam was huffing after her last contraction, sweating heavily as he ran a damp rag over her forehead with the hand that still had feeling in it. Janet was checking her vitals again, shaking her head. "Almost there, Sam. Don't push. Not yet."

"Well, it better be soon," she gasped through clenched teeth. "Or someone's gonna get a black eye."

Jack almost jumped away from the bed on purpose, trying to make Sam laugh.

It partially succeeded. She smiled, then threw her head back into the flimsy pillow.

"Captain?" Sheppard asked from the door.

Sam nodded at him. "Go on, it's fine. I'm sure Teyla will help calm me down."

"I may need your services in a minute myself," Jack whispered loudly as he stood from Sam's bedside.

She made a feeble attempt to whack him across the stomach. "I'm fine," she insisted.

Jack smiled, kissing her forehead, then moved to the doorway where Lorne had joined Sheppard from the outside waiting area. "What is it?"

"Elizabeth got a hit. They have a suspect. He's military, Air Force. I called Davis, but there is no recent activity. He's under the net. We need to expand our search, get an APB out on him. Now that we actually have a picture to post."

"Does it match the description from the security camera in the alleyway?"

Lorne held up his Droid, showing a side by side picture. "Body builds are the same. The details are obscured in the alley cam, but the Air Force ID pic is much clearer."

Jack nodded. "All right, let's get back to-"

"With all due respect, Captain, you need to stay here. We can handle this," John told him confidently. "If anything new comes in, we'll let you know. You need to be here for this."

Jack almost snapped at John for his assumptions, but quickly suppressed it. He knew that his top detective was right, in all regards. He needed to be here, with Sam.

And if anyone could handle things at the station, it was John Sheppard.

Jack smirked, abruptly letting a comment about _I can't believe I just thought that_ slip from his mind.

"All right. John, you're in charge. The moment you have something concrete, let me know."

"You got it. Give Sam a hug for us."

The expectant father-to-be nodded, knowing they were like siblings.

Sheppard and Lorne gave him a final look, smiled, then paced hurriedly down the corridor.

Janet peeked her head out, seeing that he was alone now. "Jack?"

He turned around.

"It's time," she beamed at him.

He looked past her inside the delivery room. Sam was still panting on the bed, but smiling widely. "You ready to meet your kid?"

He shook his head wryly. "I'm not sure the kid's gonna be ready to meet me."

Sam laughed, then gasped as the waves of pain rolled over her again.

Janet got into character. "All right, everybody, let's go."

* * *

TBC


	10. Lunch To Go

Short chapter, but a chapter nonetheless!

* * *

As fate would have it, Major Paul Davis and Dr. Elizabeth Weir entered the police station at the same time.

They smiled, nodded to each other, and headed straight for Detective Sheppard's desk.

John was leaning back in his chair, waiting for the file to download, twirling a pen between his fingers, as Davis cleared his throat. "John?" he said, extending his hand.

John took it with a brief smile. "Paul. Good to see you." He quickly nodded at Elizabeth. "So what'd ya find out?"

She handed him another manila folder to add to his desk. "From what we've been able to ascertain, Jackie Cooper had no medical conditions. Her death is entirely due to the assault that she received. Like Alanna Brighton, she wasn't raped, but beaten into unconsciousness. And he kept going."

John's grim face looked determinedly at the small photo inside the folder. "This has gotta stop," he half whispered, half promised the deceased woman. "What about you? Anything on your end?" he asked the Air Force major standing in front of him.

Davis nodded. "We were able to determine that Lieutenant Walston did run away from the vicinity of Tampa. There hasn't been any activity on him in Florida for the past two weeks. However, we did track down an old buddy of his. Walston called him up last week, looking for a place to hang out. Said he had been suspended and was taking some time off."

"Really? Where's he at?"

"Aiden Ford lives in Baltimore, honorably discharged. Works private sector now, security with a large corporation. We think that Walston may be staying with him, maybe trying to gain employment with the company under an alias."

Elizabeth glanced between them, confusion in her eyes. "But if this Aiden Ford knows Walston, why would he recommend him under a false name?"

"I can't answer that one. I suggest asking him in person."

John nodded. "Sounds good to me. Thanks, buddy," he said appreciatively as he stood, shaking his hand to bid him farewell.

"Let me know if you need anything else," Davis told him, and with a quick nod of his head, he walked back to the doors.

John grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair, giving Elizabeth a disappointed smile. "Sorry I hafta cancel lunch today."

She pursed her lips in understanding. "Don't worry about it. You have a job to do."

"Thanks. I owe you dinner. Again."

She only nodded her silent acceptance, then looked to the back of the room as she saw Evan Lorne coming towards them.

"Ma'am," he inclined his head politely towards her.

"Evan, nice to see you."

"Likewise. What's the occasion?"

"Dr. Weir was bringing me some paperwork, and I was going to treat her to lunch, but it looks like we'll be getting take out, Lorne."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Davis just dropped off a lead. An Aiden Ford who lives in Baltimore was in contact with Shawn Walston within the past two weeks."

Lorne nodded, pulling out his Droid in expectation. "I'll call Chang's. They're close to the highway."

"All right," John approved, confident that Lorne already knew his order.

As Evan walked off, phone pressed to his ear, Elizabeth turned back to look at John. "I suppose I should be getting back to work. Let me know when you get back, okay?"

"You got it," he replied, giving her a small smile.

A brief smile fluttered across her own face as well, then as she turned to leave, she stopped short and turned around, gazing heart-wrenchingly warmly at John. "Be safe," she softly commanded, then turned and headed back out the way that she had come in.

* * *

"Come on, Sam, push! Just a little harder!"

"If I push any harder, my head is gonna explode!"

"Head's almost out!"

"Come on, baby, you got this!"

With one final and earsplitting scream, Sam felt her baby leave her body, and she laid her head harshly against the pillows behind her. Jack was still holding her hand, wiping a cloth over her forehead. He replaced the damp fabric with his lips, giving her a comforting kiss. "You did it, Sam. You did good," he told her, his quirky little smile spreading allover his face.

She started laughing, almost deliriously, then took her eyes from her husband to her doctor. "How is she, Janet? She okay?"

The doctors and nurses were busy wiping off the baby, cleaning all the placental fluids off her tiny body, and patting her lightly on the back.

The most beautiful sound in Sam's mind, at that moment, was the first cry that her baby let out.

Sam propped herself up on her elbows, staring in awed amazement at the miracle wrapped in the pink blanket that Janet was bringing around to her side. After her accident years ago, her first doctor had said that a pregnancy was 90% unlikely. Then she went to Janet, who promptly promised to slap the doctor if she ever encountered him.

Within six careful months, she was picking out baby names.

She couldn't control the tears that started rolling as Janet placed her daughter in her arms for the first time. "Sam, Jack. You have a healthy, beautiful baby girl."

Carefully supporting the newborn's head, she cradled her baby in her arms as her husband wrapped his large arms around her, holding his family together. "Oh my God," Sam croaked, overcome with emotion. "She's beautiful!"

"She looks just like you," Jack whispered reassuringly in her ear, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple.

Turning to smile at him, she returned the compliment. "Actually, I was just thinking that she looks just like you."

"So I'm beautiful?" Jack deadpanned.

Janet burst into laughter, then stripped her scrubs off. "I'll let you three get acquainted. But Auntie Janet will be back. She's going to need to spend some time with her to make sure she is perfectly healthy."

"Yes, ma'am," Jack mock saluted to her and she and the medical team left the room.

"Wow," was all Sam could get across at the moment, amazed at how quickly you could fall in love with someone that you hadn't even known all that long. The baby girl let out a yawn, shaking her little, tired fists at her parents.

"And the rebellion starts," Jack murmured, running a finger across her cheek, feeling his daughter gurgle beneath him.

Sam gave her husband a sideways glare. "Ssh, she just got here! Don't go putting any crazy notions in her head just yet, okay?"

Jack kept grinning like a fool.

Sam leaned down to kiss her daughter's forehead, imitating the same comforting motion that Jack had been providing throughout her labor. "Welcome to the family, baby girl."

* * *

Rodney had been typing up a report until his computer crashed. Having a degree in computer science, he just decided to take it apart himself instead of waiting for tech support.

Woolsey stopped in front of his open doorway to say something, then thought the better of it, shutting his mouth and walking back to the chief medical examiner's office.

His phone vibrated on the desk next to the dismantled computer. He almost ignored it until a single word caught his eye.

_Sam._

He frowned. _Why would she be texting me? She's at the hospital! Unless-_

Quickly dropping the screwdriver and various electrical items in his hands, he opened the text message.

Which was actually a picture message.

The text above it read, _Amanda Leigh arrived at 11:16am, weighs 7 lbs, 4 oz, has my hair and Jack's eyes. Visitors welcome, she wants to meet the rest of the family!_ Below was a picture that her husband had obviously taken from his seat next to her, arm extended as far as possible without needing medical assistance. O'Neill was kissing Sam's cheek, who in turn was kissing Amanda's cheek.

Rodney had to grin at that. They were an adorable family, and between having Sam as her mother and Rodney as an honorary uncle, the kid would be a genius.

And, he silently remarked as he closed the message and turned his attention back to the disemboweled computer tower in front of him, she would probably be better with computers.

Yep.

* * *

In a Dodge Charger leaving a parking lot, two phones began buzzing.

John pulled out his iPhone, smirked, and saved the picture.

Evan unlocked his Droid, chuckled, then began typing on the screen.

Sheppard glanced over at him as they stopped at a red light on the way to the interstate. "What are you doing, tweeting the picture?"

"No," Lorne scowled at him. "Just sending it to somebody who might appreciate it."

"Cadman?"

Lorne nodded without a second thought. After a moment, his fingers paused and he looked at his partner, casting a weary look his way. "Does it bug you?" he asked.

John turned his head sharply at Evan, then back to the road. "No! Why would it?"

Lorne shrugged, then tried to drop the issue. "No reason. Just wondering."

"Evan. You don't bring topics like that up out of the blue. Something's on your mind."

Lorne sighed, then laid his phone on his lap. "Well, I mean, Laura and I, we've been going out for a while, and most people that we work with know about it. But-"

"Elizabeth and I have to stay on the down low?" John asked, straight to the point.

Lorne swallowed a breath he didn't realize he had been holding as his partner said that. "Umm, yeah, I suppose."

John let out a quiet groan of frustration. "Look, Evan, you and Cadman are both cops, but you work in different stations. Generally, your work doesn't interfere with your personal lives. With me and Elizabeth, every case that we've ever worked together, every bad guy that we've put behind bars, her reputation can be brought down by the simple suspicion if people thought we were sleeping together."

"You're not?" Lorne blurted out without thinking.

Instead of slapping him, John only smirked. "Well, I mean, not - God, why am I telling you this?"

"Because I'm your partner and I take my secrets to the grave, unlike McKay who posts them on Facebook?"

"You're never gonna let that go, are you?" John said sotto voce as he merged onto the interstate.

Evan only chuckled, then steered the conversation back to the original question. "So … you haven't slept together?"

"We've slept together, like, passed out on a couch after a movie, but we've never … been _intimate_," John offered, wanting to drive the car into a brick wall after saying that. It made him sound so soft.

To his astonishment, Lorne only nodded. "That's admirable."

John raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Really? Why do you say that?"

"There are so many relationships where sex is the focal point, and there's no thought given to the emotions, the implications, the future. You and Elizabeth seem like you've really thought this through. And I'm proud of you for not wanting to rush into anything."

"The thought _has_ crossed my mind," John replied, shaking his head.

Evan glared at him sideways. "You know what I mean," he retorted. He nodded again, then began tapping on his phone. "I'm glad we had this talk."

"I'm not," John responded, feigning annoyance. "I used to think having to go through sessions with Heightmeyer was horrible. You just topped it."

"Try Teyla and Kate in the same room. With Laura. And Elizabeth. And Jennifer Keller."

John winced. "Ooh. You walk in on a girls' poker night?"

Evan blew out a breath through clenched teeth, then ran a hand over his clean shaven jaw. "Eeh, not exactly."

"Oh?"

"I lost a bet."

"Uh-huh."

"I was their slave for the night."

"Lorne?"

"Yeah?"

"Shut up."

"No problem."

And the men continued on to Baltimore in relative silence.

* * *

Next chapter: What will the detectives find when they get to Baltimore? Will Rodney ever fix his computer? And -

*fic bunnies grin sheepishly and stop typing*

Ugh. Til next time!


	11. Unwelcome News

New chapter! Hope you enjoy it, and please, R&R! That motivates me more than anything! And an old face makes an appearance!

* * *

The address that they were given led them to an apartment complex, nicely kept from the appearance of the office. As Evan and John walked inside, a young woman sitting at the front desk looked up from her computer and smiled. "Hi, how can I help you?"

Simultaneously, they pulled out their badges. "Washington PD, I'm Detective Lorne, this is Detective Sheppard. We're here to meet with one of your residents, Aiden Ford?"

Her face scrunched up. "Is there something wrong, Detectives?"

"No, we just wanted to come in here and flash our badges around," Sheppard kidded, giving her a slight smirk without losing his authority in the situation. "Is it possible you can call Mr. Ford, tell him he has a package in the office?"

She nodded, her straightened blonde hair barely moving. "Sure."

While she dialed his number, Lorne kept one ear on that conversation as he glanced towards his partner, rubbing a hand over his slightly stubbled chin. "How do you wanna play this?"

"Well, ideally, it would be better to keep Ford on our good side, but we don't know how much he knows about what his friend has been doing lately."

"I think we're about to find out," Lorne quickly told him as the rear door leading into the office opened.

A younger, dark skinned man with a baseball cap walked in, a slightly goofy smile on his face. "Hey, Lindsay, got a package for me?"

She motioned to the two detectives standing by the open glass window.

He did a double take, then nodded. "Thanks," he replied, a little uncertainly.

Rubbing his hands together, he walked over to Evan and John. "Detectives?"

Lorne nodded, extending his hand. "Evan Lorne. This is John Sheppard."

"Nice to meet you," he replied, a small smile on his face.

"Likewise," John said as she pulled his hand back.

"So. What can I do for you?"

Sheppard glanced sideways at Lorne. "A Major Davis from AFOSI was in contact with you earlier?"

"Yeah, said he was looking for Shawn."

"You mean, Lieutenant Walston?" John asked for clarification.

"Yeah. Man, I had a feeling something was up. Shawn isn't the kind of guy to get himself suspended."

"Did Lieutenant Walston tell you anything about why he was suspended?"

Ford shrugged. "He said he had a misunderstanding with one of his superiors. I figured he was just having a bad day, and offered to let him crash at my place."

"How long has he been here?" John asked, frowning.

"Umm, he flew in the last Thursday of July. I got off work early to go pick him up."

Lorne wrote something down in his notepad, then glanced back up at the young man. "Is he making himself comfortable, like he's planning on staying long term?"

"Long term?" Ford shrugged again. "I don't know about that, but I hooked him up with some temp work. The agency I work for specializes in commercial alarm systems, and one of our drivers recently broke his leg. I asked if Shawn was interested, and he jumped on it."

Lorne nodded again as he continued to write, but noticed the befuddled expression on the young man's face.

"Sir," Ford asked, his tone of voice almost pleading, "what has Shawn done? Why are you really looking for him?"

Lorne looked up, slightly surprised, and turned his head to Sheppard, indicating that he should answer.

John sighed, staring down at his shoes, then brought his head up, matching Aiden's eyes. "Lieutenant Walston was under suspicion of the murder of a female officer in Tampa at the time of his disappearance," he answered honestly.

Ford's eyes lit up in honest shock. "Oh my God," he responded, putting a hand over his mouth. "How - how strong was the case against him?"

"They had enough proof to arrest him. They were executing the warrant when he vanished."

"When was the last time you saw him?" John asked, softly.

"Uh, em, two nights ago? He was driving third shift, said he'd be back in time for breakfast. Haven't heard from him since."

Lorne closed his notebook and pulled out his card. "If you hear from him, please give us a call, okay?"

Ford accepted the card, nodding vigorously. "Yeah, yeah, definitely! Oh, geez, and I let him stay here," he moaned.

"You didn't know. The best thing you can do right now is let us know if he contacts you, all right?" John reassured him.

"Yeah, you got it."

"Thanks for coming down," John told him, shaking his hand.

"Yeah, yeah, not a problem. I'll let you know if I hear anything," Ford replied, shaking Lorne's hand and walking away, towards the back door.

The two detectives watched him for a moment, then turned to each other. "Hey, Ford!" John shouted, just before he reached the back door.

"Yes, sir?"

"What's the name of the company you work for?"

* * *

"Kenmore Security. You've gotta be kidding me."

"Yeah, I really could've gone years without hearing that name again," John Sheppard told Elizabeth as he sat down in front of her desk.

"I thought he was in prison or something?"

A manila folder landed in front of her. "Got paroled early. Made everything think he was starting clean."

She narrowed her eyes at him, seeing the suspicion in his eyes. "You don't think so."

"Michael Kenmore doesn't change on a dime. It takes a lobotomy."

"Or, maybe, his time behind bars woke him up," she offered, ever the optimist.

John smirked. "Sure. And Ronan Dex is a ballerina."

That statement helped to break the ice building up in the room from all the tension. Elizabeth couldn't help but laugh at that mental image. Ronan in a pink tutu … There are some things that you shouldn't see, whether in your mind's eye or in person. That definitely made the list.

Even through the joke, she could still discern the gloom that was starting to settle over John. His history with Michael Kenmore was a touchy subject, one that most people wisely stayed far away from.

She sighed, leaning forward on her desk. "John. It's been a long time. Maybe he really has changed."

John stared at a blank spot on her wall, looking as if he were searching for the right words. "Ya know, it's not that easy for me to believe," he said evenly. "I'm the one that got shot."

She winced.

He shook his head, giving notice that he was changing the subject. Just slightly. "Ford said that Walston's been driving part time for him since he got here, but he hasn't seen him in a few days. Still haven't heard anything from the APB we put out."

She nodded, chin cupped in her hand as she thoughtfully pondered the situation. "How's Jack and Sam?"

"I guess they're doing pretty good. The captain's staying at the hospital with Sam right now, so he technically left me in charge for a few days."

She didn't say anything in response, only shook her head in acknowledgement that she had heard him. Uncertain of whether the new information was to blame, the silence between them was starting to become unbearable. Honestly, she didn't know what to say, worried that she might only make the situation worse.

He seemed to notice it too. John cleared his throat, then began to stand from the chair. A bit quietly, he told her, "I'm, uh, I'm gonna go. Promised Ronan I'd go shoot some pool with him."

"Oh. Okay," she said, somewhat confused.

John sensed her tone. "What?" he asked, concern flitting through narrowed eyes.

She gave him a small smile. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"No, no, it's not like you to sound confused. What is it?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her desk, next to her.

He never ceased to amaze her. He really did read her like a book.

The phrase _honesty is the best policy_ kept flying in front of her, and as archaic as it sounded, it still rang true. "Something feels off."

"Like what?"

She looked up at him, green eyes burrowing into his, hoping that he wouldn't misunderstand what she was about to say. "Us," she replied simply.

He sighed. "Yeah, I was just thinkin' the same thing."

"We haven't had an actual date in a while, and we're both exhausted, working the cases and … honestly, it's been a long time since we just talked. I don't know, am I making any sense?"

"Perfectly," he whispered, holding her chin with his finger.

She groaned quietly, looking downwards at the piles of papers on her desk. "John, I don't want to keep going like this. Feeling like I always have to hide every time that I'm with you? It's difficult. Not that it isn't worth it, but it can be … overwhelming," she admitted, then glanced back up to him. "I'm rambling."

He immediately replied. "You're cute when you ramble."

She smiled, then stood from her seat as well. She wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his strong arms encircle her from where he sat on the edge of the metallic desk. At that moment, she didn't care who walked by, who started talking, who took pictures and posted them on Facebook. She just wanted John to hold her. It was her way of knowing that he promised everything would be all right, even without words.

But words helped too.

"Everything will be okay, it's just crazy right now," he said, mouth pressed against her shoulder, mumbling as he said so.

She chuckled. "I love you."

"Love you too. I'll stop by later, okay?"

"I'll be up."

They disentangled themselves, and John planted a quick kiss on her cheek before smiling at her once more, then turning and leaving out the hallway door.

She watched, through the glass windows in the surrounding offices, as he made his way towards the elevator, saying good night to a few technicians who were still working in the vicinity. One in particular saw him, nodded, then scrambled back to Elizabeth's office as she sat down in her chair.

"Hey. So, uh, any new information in the joggers' cases?" Rodney quickly asked, eyes darting around the office before settling on Elizabeth.

She began packing files into her laptop bag, planning to continue working at home. "John and Evan talked to the friend that Walston is staying with. He said he hasn't seen him in a few days."

"So … he's still at large?"

Elizabeth rolled her eyes, then turned to face McKay. "Don't worry, Rodney, I don't think you're his type." She zipped her bag shut as she said this, then reached over and turned off the lamp on her desk. She patted his arm as she squeezed past him.

"No, but you are."

Her feet froze instantly to the ground.

"What?" she asked, partially in disbelief that he would even say that, and partially because she know realized it was true.

"Jogger, career woman, late 20s to mid 30s."

She sighed, almost in relief, as she turned to give Rodney a teasing glance. "You do realize how many women in the district fit that description?"

"Ah - oh, very funny," he deadpanned, realizing his mistake.

She smiled as she willed herself towards the elevator. "Good night, Rodney."

"Night … Elizabeth."

She made it to the safety of the elevator, symbolizing the end of another long, grueling work day. She pressed the down button, relieved that she finally made it out, then groaned as her cell phone rang. "No more work," she wished aloud.

It wasn't a call, only a text message.

_Sedge hasn't been out today. Love you. John._

She smiled, then frowned. "Oh. Poor Sedge." And with that, the elevator doors shut behind her.

* * *

John nodded at Amelia Banks behind the bar as he took a spot near the end. "Hey, Banks."

"Sheppard. Your normal?"

"Eeh, just a beer tonight."

She washed out a mug, then set it under the tap and turned it on. "Ronan coming?"

"Supposed to be. Owe him a game of pool."

She shook her head at him. "Oh. Reminds me." Handing him the cold Miller, she rummaged through her apron, finally pulling out a twenty dollar bill. "Beer's on me. That's from last time."

John grinned. "I was beginning to wonder if you were going to make good on your bet, Banks. Thanks."

"Don't worry about it. Then again," she said, slightly smiling at someone standing behind John, "you may not have it for long."

"Hey, can I get a beer too?"

Amelia had already pulled out another mug and was filling it for Ronan as he sat next to John. "What's up, Sheppard?"

"Same old crap. How about you?"

Ronan only shrugged, eloquent as always. "Hey, uh, you still lookin' for that guy? The one in the picture you gave me?"

"Yeah, actually. Why? Did you find something?" Sheppard asked, eyebrows raised in expectation.

Ronan chuckled. "No, just thought I'd get you riled up for nothing."

Sheppard groaned. "Geez, Ronan, wait till I've had a few, okay?"

Ronan let out a quiet snort. "Yeah, whatever. One of my guys said he saw him. Working for-"

"Kenmore Security," John filled in, taking a swig of his beer. "Yeah, I know. Got in touch with a friend of his." He blinked, trying to force the exhaustion out of his body, and groaned as he spun in his seat. "Don't take this the wrong way, buddy, but I'm not in the mood to talk about work right now. Okay?"

Ronan held his hands up in front of him. "Hey, I just came here to whoop your butt at pool, all right?"

Sheppard grinned a knowing smile. "Yeah, sure."

Behind the bar, Amelia cleared her throat. "Um, John? You might want to see this."

Remote in hand, she turned up the volume on the television, even though the captions were turned on.

The detective started to drink again but slowly lowered the mug to the counter, mouth dropping in shock, as the grim faced reporter on the screen finished his report. "…was reported missing after she didn't come home after her nightly jog. If anyone has any information about her whereabouts, they are asked to please call the police department…"

John groaned, laying his head in his hands. "Oh, God. Not another one," he muttered under his breath.

Amelia opened her mouth to say something, then suppressed the urge as another detective appeared through the door. Evan Lorne and Laura Cadman had just entered, but one glance at the television had him turning to face his girlfriend with a mournful expression.

John lifted his head, then stood and walked over. "Guess we've got work to do." He smiled at Laura. "Sorry to spoil your date, Cadman."

She shrugged good naturedly. "I'm sure I'll survive. I think Dex owes me a game, anyway."

John frowned ironically. "Why is it that Ronan owes so many people?"

Evan only smiled, then kissed Laura quickly on the cheek. "Call you later?"

"I'll be around," she assured him, walking away towards the giant at the bar.

Sheppard sighed, glancing back to Ronan.

Ronan only used his hand, gesturing him out the door.

Lorne looked at him, then groaned. "Off to work we go?"

Sheppard rolled his eyes.

* * *

TBC …

The fic bunnies ambushed me on that last part. Reviews are muchly appreciated!


	12. BoysGirls Night In

Sorry I haven't been here for a while, life's been hectic!

Starting with this chapter, I am changing the format a bit. From now on, the chapters will have date tags, just so it has a better feel of time.

Read, review, and enjoy!

_

* * *

_

_Sunday night. 6:00 pm._

One detective was seated at his desk, eating his dinner slowly as his eyes raked over the television screens. The news bulletin hadn't gone unnoticed; he knew Sheppard and Lorne were on their way in. He had the past two days off, but as soon as he returned to work, he immediately got thrown into the case. This was turning into some horrible nightmare. He so badly wanted to silently ask himself, _What else could go wrong? _but restrained himself for fear of tempting fate.

He glanced up, seeing two detectives enter side by side. "Hey, guys. Guess you saw the news, huh?" he asked ironically.

John rolled his eyes as he took his coat off, placing it over the back of his desk chair.

Lorne frowned slightly as he sat across from John's desk. "When did she go missing?"

Cameron Mitchell handed him a folder. "This morning. Eleven hours ago."

John's head shot up. "_Eleven hours_? Supposed to wait seventy two before they're reported missing!" he exclaimed in astonishment.

Cameron held his hand up defensively. "Yeah, I know. Apparently they read about the other joggers and got freaked out."

Sheppard groaned as he slapped the folder down on his desk. "I hate to say this, but I wish the captain was here to deal with this."

"Wish granted, Sheppard," Jack O'Neill groused as he walked in behind them, hands stuffed in the pockets of his khakis.

"Sir, I thought you were still with Sam," Mitchell said, glancing at the others for confirmation.

"Yeah, well, Carter saw the news, then told me to go make myself useful. So, here I am." He rubbed his hands together. "All right, what do we got?"

* * *

Elizabeth and Sedge had just returned from their walk when her phone rang.

She didn't even glance at the caller ID; she hit the answer button, struggling between keys and the leash as she greeted, "This is Weir."

"Hey, it's me."

"Hey. What's going on?"

"Have you seen the news tonight?" John asked, his voice laced with more tension than usual.

"No, Sedge and I went out as soon as I got home. Why, what's wrong?"

"Turn on channel seven. You'll see."

Pressing the phone between her ear and shoulder, she closed the door and dropped Sedge's leash, making her way to the kitchen to turn on the small television on the counter. The six o'clock news report was on, a breaking news caption in the corner.

"… Police are investigating the disappearance of a twenty nine year old woman named Kendra Billings. According to her roommate, she went for her morning run and didn't return home. She hasn't heard from her since." The picture, probably from her driver's license, showed a young woman, brunette with blonde highlights, blue eyes, and a friendly smile.

Elizabeth sighed and muted the report. "When did she go missing?"

"This morning. She wasn't back by the time her roommate left for work, but when she got home tonight there was no sign that Kendra Billings had been back either. She saw the other news reports and called the police."

She sat down at the bar in her kitchen. "What can I do?"

"At the moment, I can't think of anything. Just - try to relax."

She almost snorted.

"Anyhow, I just wanted to keep you in the loop, but I gotta go."

"I appreciate it, thanks. I'll talk to you later."

"All right. Love you."

She clicked the phone off and laid it back on the counter, sighing as she watched the closed captions catch up to the spoken report.

Next to her, Sedge nudged her nose against her thigh and whined quietly. "I suppose watching the news isn't going to help me much," she murmured to herself as she turned it off, then slowly stood from the stool, observing her living room from the kitchen.

She gave Sedge an appreciative rub on the head and headed towards her home office. There was something missing from all the cases. They couldn't be left in the precarious, unsolved state they currently were.

So she sat down, opened her laptop, and threw herself back into work.

* * *

Teyla Emmagen glanced at the women with her as they tried to balance the food and liquor between them. Jennifer Keller held the bottle of wine in one hand, a paper bag of cheese and crackers in the other. Kate Heightmeyer, the resident psychiatrist for the police department, had been invited as a substitute for Laura Cadman, and was told not to worry about bringing anything.

Then the explosives expert called Teyla and told her that her date with Evan got cancelled due to work, and wanted to know if she wanted to lose a few bucks.

So Laura brought up the rear of the group crowded on the steps outside Elizabeth's townhouse, holding a six pack.

"Did anybody call her?" Jennifer asked, glancing at the dim lighting coming from inside the living room.

"Nah, but she always remembers," Laura insisted, rebalancing the beer.

After Teyla's first knock, they all heard Sedge barking and a feminine voice inside. "Down, Sedge," called her owner as she opened the front door just a crack. "Teyla!" she greeted in surprise. After seeing the rest of the ladies standing behind her, she sighed. "Oh, I completely forgot!"

Everyone shot a look at Laura, who only shrugged. "We have alcohol."

Elizabeth sighed, then let out a mirthless chuckle. "I need it. Come on in."

The group filed into her living room as Sedge stuck his nose in everything, examining the contents of the girls' night in. Teyla glanced again at her living room, and the small office that was off to one side. "I'm sorry, are you working?" she asked apologetically, noticing the open computer and the folders spread across the desk.

She shook her head. "Just trying to piece the cases together. I haven't accomplished much, though."

Teyla glanced between the other women. "Well, why don't you fill us in? We're fresh minds. Maybe we will notice something that hasn't been seen yet."

Jennifer nodded her consent, as well as Kate. Laura slightly rolled her eyes, but set the beer down on the bar in the kitchen and pulled out a bottle. "We're all yours."

Elizabeth smiled. "You don't have to do this. I don't want to ruin your evening."

"The only thing that would ruin my evening is if my team disarms a bomb and I'm not there."

All the women became giggling teenagers after Laura's last statement.

After twenty minutes had passed by, Teyla glanced over at Elizabeth, kneeling in front of the couch as she hovered over the victims' pictures. She had informed them of the third jogger who was missing, but at the moment, they were trying to make a connection between the first two women.

Teyla berated herself mentally. She knew how much her friend would drown herself in her work if she could; part of the reason that they had come over was to try and prevent her from overworking herself at home.

And now, the five professionals were gathered in a semi circle in Elizabeth's living room, peering intently at the folders spread out over the small wooden table.

_Well. That went well._

Jennifer sighed, leaning over the coffee table to pick up her wine glass. "So, they're both joggers, young professionals, and they just randomly got picked off by the same guy?"

"We don't even have any real evidence that the assailant is the same person in both cases," Elizabeth explained, leaning back in her chair. "We have a blurry picture that matches the description of Walston in the first case, and definite DNA evidence in victim number two."

Kate unfolded her arms, then pulled her notebook back out. "Let's start at the beginning. Alanna Brighton. 36 years old. Wallet was still on her person, no credit cards or cash missing. She regularly ran the same path."

Laura looked up from the folder she was perusing, eyes narrowed. "There was something odd about her. Didn't Detective Sheppard say that she told her parents she was going to be out of town this week?"

Elizabeth nodded. "That's right."

"Who did she work for?"

"It should be in there," the medical examiner clarified, angling her head to see if Laura found the right page.

Teyla reached over and picked up the folder for Jackie Cooper when the lieutenant spoke again. "Davidson, Powers, and Burlington. A legal firm."

Teyla inhaled sharply as the words from Laura collided with her own thoughts. "Did no one notice this coincidence earlier?" she asked under her breath, shocked at the print in front of her.

"What is it?" Elizabeth asked hurriedly, standing up and walking around to look over Teyla's shoulder.

"Jackie Cooper worked for a firm as well. Gilbert and Resnick."

The room suddenly went very silent. Jennifer glanced between the women, slightly confused. "They both worked for lawyers. Why would no one connect the dots until now?"

Kate looked at the open computer on Elizabeth's desk. After a heavy pause, she cautiously asked, "Who does Kendra Billings work for?"

* * *

Jack ran a hand through his grey hair as the three detectives each took a profile and wrote a brief history. For all intents and purposes of trying to solve cases, he would sometimes ask them to embody the victim, just to make their story seem more actual.

John was going over the points from Alanna Brighton's life, while Evan Lorne sat opposite, compiling Jackie Cooper's life.

Cameron Mitchell had been assigned to Kendra Billings. If there was a chance that she was a third victim in this trend, it was better to have the facts down than get thrown for a loop if new evidence appeared.

The videocam that had recently been installed began flashing.

Jack turned his head to the lead detective, who stood and walked over to it. He activated it with a single press of a button.

On the large screen, he saw the clearly recognizable face of Elizabeth Weir. Behind her were half the women on the city's payroll.

"Ladies," John drawled at them.

Elizabeth blushed and Laura shot him a glare from behind her left shoulder. "_We've found a few things that we need to share with you_."

"'_We'_?" Jack asked curiously, stepping into view of the camera.

"_We've been having a girl's night in. Kind of_," Jennifer Keller responded, looking somewhat nervous.

Jack waved away the situation with his hand. "What do you got?"

"_Alanna Brighton and Jackie Cooper both worked at large legal firms in DC. Kendra Billings works with her brother, who recently graduated Yale Law and was setting up a new firm in Friendship Heights_."

Evan's eyes widened. "Are you serious?"

On Elizabeth's right, Teyla Emmagen nodded in earnest. "_That isn't all_."

It was Cadman's turn to talk. "_All three companies have recently had reported robberies. I talked to my sister, she teaches at Stanford. When a firm has a break in, more often than likely, they switch their security agencies and replace everything. New cameras, new alarm systems, the whole nine yards_."

Cameron crossed his arms. "What are you thinking?"

The women exchanged nervous glances before Elizabeth summoned all her courage and looked squarely at Jack. "_We think it's possible that Kenmore Security might be involved_."

"What?" John spat out, glaring at the monitor more so than Elizabeth.

She stood her ground. "_It's a Sunday night. We can't call and get proof. But with Walston working for Kenmore, and this connection between all the victims? It's too great to be called a coincidence, Jack_."

"And for the moment, a coincidence is all this is." Jack paced behind the detectives, inwardly overwhelmed with this new information but keeping his calm facade in place. He made a decision, then turned to face the detectives and women in one shot. "Tomorrow morning, we'll make the calls, we'll pay the visits, we'll get the warrants. We'll find out for sure if this is leading where I hope it's not."

Elizabeth released a sigh of relief as the others began chattering behind her. "_Thank you, Jack._"

He smiled quickly, then turned his sole attention back to her. "Now. Go have some fun. We'll keep you updated."

Elizabeth nodded and shot a glance at John that no one missed, then disconnected the call.

* * *

To be continued ... sooner or later ... :D


	13. Secrets

_Sunday night. 9:30pm._

As Kate, Jennifer, and Laura left later that evening, Elizabeth sat on the couch, wanting to fall back into the cushions and loose herself in sleep. She was more worried about making her assumptions known to the police than she had thought. The shock and brief flash of anger on John's face had startled her, adding to the discomfort that she currently felt.

The bottle of wine that Jennifer had brought was safe in the refrigerator. Everyone excepting Laura had each had one glass, then after some girl talk and a rather quick poker game, it was just her and Teyla.

Across the room, Teyla sighed as she brought their half full wine glasses over.

"Is something wrong?" Elizabeth asked, noting the consternation on her face.

Teyla shook her head as she sat down next to her. "Nothing particularly. I must admit that John's reaction shocked me. I know that he can be very emotional about his cases, but I thought that he responded rather callously to your suggestion that Kenmore Security is involved."

Elizabeth didn't answer with words. The hitch in her breath gave her away.

At that instant, she reflected that the district had picked the perfect person as the grief counselor. Teyla was kind, friendly, empathetic, and sympathetic. Above all, she had an uncanny knack for isolating the emotional issues that the grievers tried to hide, not only from her but from themselves as well.

Her work ethic wasn't restricted to her office, it seemed. "What is it?" Teyla asked, softly and tentatively.

The coroner sighed, then glanced sharply at Teyla. "What I'm about to say cannot leave this room."

"I understand," was Teyla's earnest reply.

Elizabeth brought her wine glass to her lips again, then placed it on the coffee table as she told one of John's secrets.

* * *

John ran a hand through his hair, leaning back in his office chair as he waited for the computer to shut down for the night. Mitchell had left about an hour ago; Lorne was just returning from the captain's office, his leather jacket already on.

"You leaving soon?" Lorne asked, pointing a look in his partner's direction.

John nodded, then stood as the lights finally disappeared from the laptop. "Yeah. I, uh, got a couple things to do."

"At ten o'clock at night?" Lorne asked, raising his eyebrows knowingly.

John only smirked, sliding his arms through his jacket. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Uh, John?"

"Yep?" he asked, rotating to face him.

"Tomorrow's Monday."

John wanted to laugh. He always looked forward to having Mondays off, but he had gotten so engrossed in this case that he had lost track of time. "Yeah. It is, isn't it?" he replied, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking out the door.

He drove quickly to Elizabeth's house and was relieved to see that the light inside was still on.

Letting himself in, he locked the door behind him as Sedge immediately got up from his cushion next to Elizabeth's desk and skidded towards him, head angled for a rub.

His girlfriend laughed as he obliged. "He's been waiting on you. I guess you give better head rubs than me."

"And foot rubs. Don't forget that."

She smiled tenderly as she stood from her desk. "I won't." She moved closer to him, wrapping her arms around his waist as he pulled her in by the shoulders. He sighed heavily, feeling her relax, and kissed her.

"I've missed you," he whispered into her hair.

"Me too," she replied in kind. She glanced behind her, at the kitchen. "There's still some beer in the fridge."

He narrowed his eyes, but smiled. "You actually bought beer?"

She smacked his arm. "You act like I don't like it."

"Well," he reasoned as he walked over to the fridge, "I know you generally prefer wine, that's all."

She shook her head, chuckling. "In any case, it's left over from what Laura brought. She wanted to leave it for next time. Or for you. Whoever got to it first."

He nodded, satisfied with how the beer in his hand had appeared in her house. "Remind me to thank the lieutenant next time I see her."

"That reminds me. Why is it that she's a sergeant, but everyone calls her lieutenant?"

He took a swig. "She was a lieutenant in the Marines."

"Ah."

A heavy silence chose to descend upon them at that moment, and John looked back at Elizabeth. She stood, almost nervously, with her hands clasped in front of her. She was trying not to make eye contact with him, and it bothered him more than usual.

In a soft, low voice that he only used around her, he asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied with a curt smile, shaking her head.

John lightly glared at her.

She turned her back to him and walked back to her office, taking her seat again.

He followed her, sitting in a chair across the table. "Come on, something's bugging you. What is it?" he asked again, crossing his arms.

She propped her elbows on the desktop, entwining her fingers as her cheek pressed against her hands. "You seemed a little upset when I mentioned to Jack that Kenmore might be involved."

"I get jumpy anytime Kenmore is mentioned," he replied, leaning back in the chair as he tried to look her in the eyes.

She averted her eyes downwards. "Teyla noticed it too."

The tension started to rise.

John unfolded his arms and leaned forward. "Did you tell her?"

Her lack of an answer was telling. She kept her head down, looking embarrassed, and she remained silent.

John grunted, then stood from the chair. "What did you do that for?" he spat out at her.

Elizabeth finally looked back up to him, astonishment written across her face. "Excuse me?" she said, laying her hands on the desk.

"She didn't need to know! I don't want that particular piece of history getting around and biting me in the-"

"John!"

"What!"

Elizabeth fixed a stony glare on him as she rose from her desk. "How many times has Teyla betrayed your confidence in the past?"

"Never."

"Why do you think she would start now?"

Mouth agape, he let out a soft "humph" and sat down again. "She wouldn't," he quietly conceded. He brought his darkening hazel eyes back up to her green ones. "You still shouldn't have told her."

"She's a grief counselor, John," she gently reminded him. "It's her job to know how people work, how people process grievous events in their life. If anything, it only makes her more-"

"Sympathetic?" he offered sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

She shook her head firmly. "Understanding."

He sighed in defeat, looking into his lap in embarrassment. "I shouldn't gone off on you. Sorry."

She gave him an accepting smile, then walked around the desk and knelt next to his chair. "We've had worse arguments than that. Don't worry about it."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek, then took one of her small hands in his. "You don't have to say yes, but … do you mind if I crash here tonight?"

Her eyes widened in surprise, yet he knew that she wasn't truly shocked. He had stayed the night before, either due to falling asleep on the couch after a movie, not having the energy to drive the extra twenty minutes to his apartment, or being slightly drunk.

He was always a gentleman and stayed on the couch.

"You can sleep upstairs."

This time, it was John's turn to be shocked. "I'll sleep on the sofa, it's fine."

She glanced at the laptop on the desk. "Weather says it'll be in the twenties tonight. I could use an extra heat source."

John smiled, then placed a gentle, chaste kiss on her lips, then stood and walked over to grab the duffel that he had dropped by the door.

"I've still got some work to do, but I'll be up in a bit."

He nodded at her, whispered good night, then started walking up the stairs, wondering why he suddenly started feeling like a sixteen year old boy again.

* * *

Sam and Mandy were sleeping when Jack walked back in, who tilted his head appreciatively at the scene.

Sam was laying on her left side, lips parted slightly as she breathed in and out. Their daughter lay in the cradle next to the bed, blue eyes wide open and taking in everything.

Her eyes finally landed on her father, still trying to focus. He could have sworn that when she saw him, she giggled even more and reached an arm up.

Jack quirked a smile and walked slowly over to her. "Hey, 'manda," he called her softly as his strong hands carefully gripped her, bringing her up to rest in the shelter of his arms. As he began to gaze lovingly at her, he could see the recognizable blue color of his wife's eyes in her own. He wanted to get lost in them all over again.

"Hey, Dad," a familiar feminine voice called from the door way.

Dr. Janet Frasier stood in her white coat, leaning against the frame while holding a chart to her chest.

He nodded to her, indicating she should enter the room. "Hey, Doc," he quietly greeted, looking back to his daughter as they resumed their staring contest.

She placed a comforting hand on his shoulder as she visually examined her newest patient. "How's she doing?"

"Big blue eyes, curious about everything. I have no idea where she gets it," he joked, glancing at Janet.

She cracked a smile. "Amanda is very lucky to have the two of you as her parents. She could have gotten much, much worse."

Jack shot her a mock glare, then turned back to adoring the smiling infant. "I have to admit, there were days when I thought we'd never get to this moment," he confessed, running a tough fingertip over her fresh cheek.

"I know," Janet replied. "Sam always hid it well, but every time that something went wrong, I could see her ready to fall apart. I don't think she would have gotten to this moment if it hadn't been for you."

"Well, duh," he chuckled, glancing down at Janet.

She laughed, then clarified. "If you hadn't been the man that she went home to, the one who always believed in her even when the odds weren't in your favor, the man who loved her no matter what, this never would've happened. You wouldn't be the proudest father in the world at the moment … if it wasn't for you."

He smiled briefly, sending a nod of thanks her way, as he turned back towards the sleeping form of his wife and started gently rocking his daughter in his arms.

* * *

Sorry it's so short, but I thought it was better than nothing!

Please review, they help me along more than anything!

-Shipper


	14. Psychiatrists and Pathologists

_Monday morning. 8:00am._

As Evan Lorne entered the police station on Monday morning, the first thing that drew his attention were the two uniformed officers standing outside the captain's door.

He frowned, stopping at his desk, setting his coffee down and taking off his jacket. Ever since last night, when Doctor Weir had suggested the possibility of Kenmore's involvement, the tension involved with the case rose considerably. It was almost impossible to stay within a few feet of John without feeling like you were about to be used for target practice.

A smirk appeared and quickly faded. He was suddenly grateful that his partner had the day off.

He heard the door open to O'Neill's office and he noticed one of the younger Assistant District Attorneys stepping out. She nodded at Lorne curtly, then turned on her heel and walked towards the door. Inside the office, he caught sight of his captain stretching back in the creaky chair, blowing out a breath that he had probably been holding for quite some time.

Lorne walked at a slow pace to the office, tapping on the door lightly. "Captain?"

Jack's elbow was braced on the desktop, the palm of his hand supporting his cheek as he gazed indifferently at a picture on his desk. With his left hand, currently out of work, he motioned Lorne to enter.

Just to be on the safe side, Evan shut the door behind him after he came in. "What was that about?"

"DA's office is filing a subpoena for the law firm's contractor work records for the past six months," he replied blankly, turning his eyes from the photo to the detective in front of him.

Lorne raised an eyebrow. "That was fast," he responded, taking a seat in front of the desk.

The only visible reaction from Jack was a weary blink.

Lorne nodded his head, clicking his tongue. "They accepted Dr. Weir's hypothesis?"

Jack shook his head in the affirmative. "Though why they felt the urge to get a subpoena instead of sending my guys, I do not know."

"Why wouldn't they get the records from Kenmore as well, if they have reasonable cause?"

"Hmph. That's where it starts getting messy." He picked up a file and flung it across the desk to Lorne, head still supported in his right hand. "This is from my boss."

Lorne let out a disrespectful snort. As far as most of the Metro PD were concerned, Robert Kinsey had weaseled his way to the top. Unfortunately, having to acknowledge him as the police commissioner was a cross they all had to bear, no matter how much hatred they secretly - or publicly - harbored for the man.

Jack ran his hands over his face, letting out another sigh. "Basically, he wants to stay as far away as possible from Kenmore because of … well, you know," he summarized, throwing a nod in the direction of the squad room.

Lorne turned in his chair and saw an off duty John Sheppard making his way through the room, heading towards the corridor that housed the department psychiatrist's office.

He bit his lip as his partner disappeared from view, then looked back to O'Neill. "What do you want me to do?"

"For the moment, follow up on Kendra Billings. Talk to her roommate, her neighbors, her folks. Treat it as just another missing person's report. Even though we know better," Jack added, throwing a sharp look across the desk.

Lorne nodded seriously. "Understood."

"And take Mitchell with you, make sure he's up to date. _If_ this case gets any worse, we're gonna need more of his help anyway."

"Yes, sir," he replied, standing from his chair and striding back to his desk. Across the wall divider, he tapped Cam on the shoulder. "C'mon, breakfast is on me."

Cameron smirked as he rose from his desk chair, imitating Lorne's motions as he pulled his jacket off the back. "You _do _realize I've already eaten breakfast?"

"All right, then, _Starbucks_!"

As he left the station, he was unaware of the victorious smirk on Cameron's face as he walked out behind him.

* * *

"Kenmore turned on us. I got shot in the line of duty. So yeah. I'm gonna be a little tense whenever his name gets brought up."

Dr. Kate Heightmeyer paused, eyes darting up as she held a pencil to her lower lip, tapping it gently. "If you don't mind me asking, Detective, what concrete proof do you have as to Kenmore's involvement?"

He let out a heavy sigh as he leaned back in the oversized chair, loosening his tie in the process. "When you say concrete, you mean..."

She rolled her eyes, glaring slightly. "Definite. Ironclad." She thought for a moment, then smiled knowingly as she called his bluff. "Actual proof, not suspicions."

That earned her yet another dirty look from Sheppard. The first one had been for scheduling their regular appointment on his day off.

Kate only chuckled and closed her leather bound notebook. "Let's go off the record for the rest of the session. What suspicions do you have?"

Sheppard eyed the psychiatrist for a moment, then cleared his throat quietly. "Watson fled MacDill and got a job with Kenmore Security. Doesn't seem like just a coincidence to me," he replied confidently.

She leaned forward in her own chair, resting her cheek in the palm of her hand. "Maybe that's all it is. Maybe it _is_ just a coincidence," she suggested, much to his silent disdain.

He paused, choosing his words carefully before he spoke again. "Believe me, getting wrapped up with Kenmore is the last thing I want right now."

"So why are you trying so hard to believe that he's involved?" she asked, fixing a stare on him.

He bit his lip in contemplation. Raising his eyes to meet Kate's, he let a faint proud smirk appear as he said, "Because I trust Elizabeth. And if she thinks that he is involved, she's got a darn good reason that thinking that."

Kate sighed, closing her eyes for a long second. She laid her book and pencil down on the small table facing their chairs, wishing she wasn't obligated to ask this question. "John," she asked in a slow yet professional tone, "would you even be considering this notion if Lorne or McKay had brought it up?"

She knew that John was an expert at reading between the lines. As his eyes narrowed, his gaze becoming more intense, she knew that he had. "Exactly what are you suggesting?" he asked frankly, in no way disguising the answer he already knew.

Her only reply was a pointed stare back at him.

John sighed, then leaned forward, standing from the chair. "You think that I'm letting my feelings for Elizabeth affect my judgment," he said, rather than asked.

"I only asked if-"

Holding up a hand to silence her, he replied, "Yeah, I know what you said, Doc."

As he reached for his suit jacket, Kate sighed. "You know that I have to ask. It's part of my job," she offered quietly by way of apology.

John let out a humored chuckle. Yet as he turned to face her before he left her office, his eyes turned a darker shade. "And part of my job is catching the bad guys."

As the door shut behind him, Kate couldn't hold in a shudder. She had seen the same steely determination behind his hazel eyes.

It was there the moment they told him that Michael Kenmore, his former partner, was the one who shot him.

* * *

Elizabeth found Rodney in his office, muttering at the data currently filtering across his laptop screen. He was so oblivious to her presence that, even though she was in his line of vision, she had to knock on his door to get his attention.

"Yes?" he replied agitatedly, eyes darting for not even a second to see who was at his door. "Oh hey. C'mon in."

She smiled at him. "What did you find?"

"Nothing," he responded blankly.

Raising an eyebrow in confusion, she repeated, "Nothing."

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Yes, _nothing_. There was no foreign substances that appeared in their blood work and excepting victim number two, no conclusive DNA results."

She crossed her arms, starting to feel the beginnings of a tension headache approaching. "Then why did you call me, email me, text me, and tell me you HAD something?"

"Suspected victim number three hasn't been found yet, right?" he asked, not taking his eyes off of the screen.

Elizabeth blinked as she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Not to my knowledge."

Rodney smirked and held up a pointed finger in front of him. "I think I know how to find her."

Her hand slowly fell away from her face. "How?"

* * *

Rodney McKay wasn't sure why, but every time he entered this particular room he always found himself slightly intimidated. In no way did it compare to his lab at the morgue, with its active board and multiple computers running. The light grey walls holding the windows in place seemed to be standard in most of the government buildings on this side of town, but the furniture in O'Neill's office was sparse. A single laptop sat in the middle of his desk as the police chief sat behind it, elbows propped on the smooth, dark finish.

As it happened, less than an hour after he had called Elizabeth into his office, he found himself standing in front of the sturdy wooden desk, trying to translate his proposal into simple English. Again.

Jack nodded as he leaned back in his office chair, reclining slightly. "So let me see if I got this straight." He glared at McKay. "You think we're idiots?"

Jack O'Neill was one of the few people in this universe that could shock the scientist into momentary silence. The police chief's wife was one of the others.

Rodney almost gaped at him until he felt a nudge from below. In the chair directly in front of him, Elizabeth sat, inadvertently a physical barrier between the two men. She turned her head and shot Rodney a knowing glance as she spoke to Jack. "We're only suggesting another possibility. She wasn't found murdered like the first two victims. The M.O. has altered, and so might the outcome. She might still be alive."

"And you don't think we've already started tracking her cell phone? Credit cards? Internet usage?" Evan Lorne asked from where he stood, perched against the book shelves facing the left side of the desk, his back towards the windows facing the squad room.

McKay rolled his eyes, ready to walk out of a room full of people that he had already designated incompetent, until Elizabeth stood, a friendly smile on her face. "We're not insulting anyone's intelligence, and we know standard procedure."

"But I don't think anyone has taken another important aspect into consideration during this discussion," Rodney interjected, raising his hand, holding the subpoenaed records. "All three victims do indeed work for law firms that Kenmore Security has had involvement with. Each of the offices are high profile, which requires you must have a security card to access them."

"But, Kenmore Security installed their security systems. Wouldn't it be safe to assume that, of all the people in the Metro area, they would be able to break in if they wanted to?" O'Neill posed, brown eyes looking to each of the persons in the room.

Rodney scoffed, not as quietly as he attempted. "If all your cases are based on assumptions, I might as well be talking to primates," he angrily muttered under his breath.

Jack glared at him. "Elizabeth. If McKay calls me a monkey one more time this week, I'm gonna arrest him," he threatened, watching as Rodney rolled his eyes.

"Gentlemen," Elizabeth spoke up, holding up a hand to each of them. "Let's not loose focus. We aren't insinuating that they are trying to break in to the firms. That is the connection to the victims. We're suggesting setting a trap."

Jack chuckled, then threw a sideways glance at Lorne. "Why is it Elizabeth is the one coming up with all the ideas, huh?"

Lorne only shrugged, crossing his arms.

Jack rubbed his eyes, dragging said hand down his face. "All right, you wanna set a trap. Who would you use? How would you get in his sight to make yourself a target?"

"Uh, I think that's _your _part of the job," Rodney replied, his tone patronizing.

"Actually, I've already given this some thought." The serious contemplation in Elizabeth's voice brought the attention of the three men in the room to her.

Her arms were crossed. Her green eyes were studiously fixed on the edge of the desk, not quite willing to make eye contact with anyone just yet. Her forehead was furrowed in thought. When she finally looked up, her lips were pressed firmly together.

Rodney's stomach began churning in dread.

"The bait would have to be a woman, a runner. She needs to be between 25-40 years of age. She would need to gain employment at a law firm in the area, of similar prestige and one that Kenmore has worked on."

Jack stared back at her. "Are you volunteering?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

Rodney sputtered, "Elizabeth, are you crazy?"

Jack pushed his chair back from the desk, standing up as he cast a glance at Lorne, who uncrossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at his captain.

"I'm a perfect candidate, Jack, and you know it," Elizabeth persisted. "I worked in my father's law office for a short time after graduation, and I've kept my finger in it since then. I can infiltrate with the least amount of suspicion of anyone here!"

"I agree, for what it's worth," Lorne spoke up, looking between the doctor and the captain. "Since she works in the coroner's office, her face isn't well known. She would probably have the most success of anyone." He shrugged good naturedly. "For what it's worth," he repeated.

Elizabeth smiled at him in thanks.

Rodney was still horrified. "Elizabeth, do you have any idea of what you're getting yourself into?"

"Yes, Rodney," she replied sternly, turning to face him, "I do. I've had to do autopsies on two young women because of this, and a third is still missing. I don't want to do hers, or a fourth, or a fifth." Her green eyes darkened with determination. "This is going to end. Now."

* * *

Chapter 15: John finds out about Elizabeth's plan. So does someone else ...


	15. Undercover and Released

Sorry it's been so long since I've updated! I recently switched jobs and I'm still transitioning … and writing fic helps me cope. Hopefully I'll get back on schedule soon!

Enjoy, and please review!

* * *

_Monday afternoon. 1:30pm._

John was throwing a dark look in the direction of the doorway as Elizabeth entered her office, placing her laptop bag on the desk. He sat at the far end of the couch, arms crossed in obvious dissatisfaction. "What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes following Elizabeth as she moved.

She tossed a sideways glance at him. "I offered a proposal, and Jack decided to follow it," she replied, pulling her laptop out and putting it on the desk.

"Was placing yourself as an open target part of the plan?" he asked, his tone snarky.

She dropped her bag to the floor, crossing her arms in return. "Do you see another way?"

"Yeah, let us do our job! We'll find someone to send in."

"I'm sure Mitchell would look great in a blouse and heels," she replied deadpanned.

Sheppard scowled, standing from the couch, letting his arms hang at his side. "You know what I mean. It's not up to you to volunteer for an op."

"I'm not going to stand by and watch more women roll into my autopsy room. I have an opportunity to make a difference. The decision has been made."

Getting even more frustrated, he ran a hand through his hair. "I don't have a problem with the op. But let us send in one of the female cops in our department. Someone with the experience."

"Which experience are you referring to? Having law school experience or being able to shoot someone?" she asked point blank.

John shut his mouth. He started glaring at her.

"You're worried because I won't carry a gun, because I don't know how to defend myself?" She smiled at him. "That's the reason you'll be in my ear all the time. That's the reason why I have a camera in the glasses I got from Rodney. John, please, trust me. I know what I'm doing."

"I trust you," he replied in a husky voice, crossing his arms. "It's the bad guys I don't trust."

She smiled sadly at him, then walked around the desk, stopping in front of him. "I can talk to Jack, request that you're put on my backup detail?"

John shook his head. "Nah, he wouldn't go for it." Unfolding his arms, he reached out and pulled her into a gentle hug, nudging her head under his chin. "Sorry. Guess I overreacted."

"It's okay," she whispered softly, wrapping herself around his frame.

They stood like that for a moment until they heard the clamor coming from down the hall. Rodney's voice accompanied it.

Lorne came around the corner and poked his head into Weir's office. "We've got the gadgets. Ready to get to work, Doc?"

A few minutes later, John and Lorne stood in front of Elizabeth's desk, watching as she entered her new personal information into the resume. She had donned a pair of thin, black rimmed glasses which served two purposes: it made her look like a bookworm fresh out of Harvard Law, and it was doing something for John as well. Of course, he would never say that aloud.

In present company, at least.

"All right," she said, turning her laptop to face the detectives. "Resume is complete, thanks to the references you conveniently provided for me." She smiled sweetly at them.

John did a half shrug, while Evan beamed a little.

Everybody was wrapped around her finger, and she never knew it. Even McKay.

John cleared his throat, then braced his hands on the edges of the desk, looking more intently at the screen. "So your name is Sarah James, graduated second in your class from University of Baltimore, was working for a firm there but moved here for more job opportunities." Again, he shrugged. "And you're fluent in four languages, including French, Russian, and Polish?"

She returned his shrug with a smug smile. "It never hurts to have a unique skill set. Gets you further in the professional world."

John stared at her. "You actually know four languages?"

She nodded.

Next to him, Lorne let out a whistle. "I'm very impressed ... Ms. James."

She nodded her head in thanks, then glanced back at her desk. "If everything looks in order, I'll go ahead and e-mail my resume to Parker and Gililland. Do you see any discrepancies?"

"Yeah, you forgot to mention your brief tenure as the top medical examiner for the Metro area," Rodney casually threw in as he passed the open door to her office.

John smirked in his direction as he vanished from view, then he looked back at Elizabeth. "Everything looks good here. We'll have your new ID and background check completed in a minute. Then Sarah James can go get her new job as an illustrious paralegal and catch some bad guys in the process."

* * *

Across town, in a hospital room, Sam was being allowed to stretch her legs for the first time in quite a while. Before Mandy was born, Janet had insisted on full bedrest, and since her stay at the hospital began, even a simple thing as going to the bathroom required two nurses to help her.

The realization that she had given birth was made more apparent when she stood up and was actually able to see her feet for the first time in six months.

She grinned giddily as she stepped over to the crib, watching her daughter as she discovered just how tasty her fingers were.

There was a knock on the door. "Hey, Sam," McKay called from behind her, walking up to her slowly, a small bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"Hey, Rodney," she greeted, turning briefly towards him, then looked back at her baby. "She just figured out that she can suck on her fingers."

"She's gonna be a smart girl," Rodney replied nonchalantly, standing next to Sam, laying the flowers on the freshly made bed.

"We're getting discharged today," she informed him after a moment of silence, extending one of her fingers towards Mandy's hand, smiling contentedly as she grasped it and wrapped her miniature hand around it.

"Really? I would've thought they'd want you to stay longer. You know, to make sure they're aren't any complications or anything."

She shook her head, pressing her lips together for a second. "For all of my health problems while I was carrying her, Janet said she's still the healthiest baby she could have asked for. Jack will be here soon."

Upon hearing the name of the man who he feared above all others, Rodney glanced hurriedly towards the door.

The motion made Sam laugh. "Don't worry, he won't be here for at least fifteen minutes. I think you're safe till then."

Rodney nodded, then turned around again, glancing between mother and child. "Is it weird?"

"Is what weird?" she asked calmly.

"Being a mother."

She chuckled. "I've only been a mother for a few days, Rodney. When she's bringing boys home, I'll let you know."

Rodney replied with a "hmm", then reached over, picking up the flowers that he had brought with him. "Uh, these are for you," he told her, nudging her arm.

With one hand being held captive by her daughter, she extended her free one, holding them up to her nose, inhaling the sweet scent. "Lillies," she remarked, glancing back at him. "Thank you."

He smiled sheepishly, then took a step back. "Well, I should probably go. Gotta finish up some work for Elizabeth."

Sam's brow furrowed. "Is she okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, she's fine. She just concocted this crazy scheme to go undercover at a law firm and become bait for the perpetrator who's killed those last two women and kidnapped a third."

Sam stared at him, speechless. "Rodney!"

He held up his hands in defense as he backed away, towards the open door. "Hey, I didn't think it was a good idea, either. But O'Neill's letting her do it. How was I supposed to say no to him?"

"Jack approved this?" she asked through slightly gritted teeth.

Rodney's eyes widened, then quickly said, "Gotta go," and escaped the room before she could say anything else.

* * *

Sorry it's a short chapter, the next one will be meatier! And full of ... umm, stuff!


	16. Interviews and Drinks

_Wednesday morning. 11:30am._

Elizabeth Weir walked into the station, Mitchell closely following her. Her appearance in the area was common, but the determined stride, the furrowed eyebrow, and the glare she wasn't directing at anyone in particular caused a few people to stare after her.

She stopped walking as she approached the desks located near O'Neill's office. A black dress coat lay over one of the chair backs, its owner approaching with a manila folder in his hands.

"Sheppard!" Cameron called out, making John's head look up from the folder.

John almost smiled but quickly replaced it with a worried frown as he met Elizabeth's eyes. "What happened?" he asked both parties, his eyes never leaving hers.

She sighed as she removed her business bag from her shoulder. "We have a problem."

* * *

Detective Evan Lorne returned from lunch to see Cameron Mitchell sitting as his desk, John Sheppard leaning against his, and the captain talking quietly to Elizabeth Weir. Nobody said anything, but the mood was tense. Evan couldn't put his finger on what was wrong.

So he waited.

A moment later, Elizabeth went into Jack's office, closing the door slowly behind them. Evan turned around and skewed his partner with a look of pure confusion. "All right, you wanna tell me what's going on?"

John groaned angrily. "Steven Caldwell works at Parks and Gililland. He made Elizabeth during her interview."

"Did anybody else notice?"

"He pulled her aside," he answered, implying that no one else in the office knew that their new paralegal wasn't a paralegal. "It's just ..."

Lorne glanced at him curiously. "What?"

"When Caldwell was an ADA, he would flirt with Elizabeth all the time."

Lorne almost laughed. "Is that what this is about? You're jealous?"

John shook his head. "No! Geez, Lorne! But he came onto Elizabeth so many times, always wearing that same navy blue sweater, that it made me wanna puke. And whenever she turned him down, he'd take it out on us."

"How so?"

John forced a chuckle, casting a sideways glance at him. "About five months before you came here, he got onboard with Kinsey and tried to force the captain to retire."

"Why?"

"Kinsey and the captain have a long standing feud. He always believed that he and Sam were having an inappropriate relationship for people in their positions. He asked Caldwell to look for a legal loophole, any reason why they should be fired."

Lorne pieced it together in his head. "Kinsey got Caldwell to do his dirty work for him," he concluded, looking between the closed windows in the office and his partner.

"Yep. When the matter got brought before a committee, they worked out an agreement and Caldwell resigned from the DA's office. Now he works private sector."

The door finally opened and Jack walked out, followed by Elizabeth. With her head held high, she looked at the detectives, a slight smile on her lips. "Are we ready to get back to work?"

Before anyone could reply, John grasped her elbow, muttering, "Elizabeth? A word?" and finding an empty interrogation room.

As they disappeared from view, Lorne turned and looked at his captain. "Sir?"

Jack held up a hand. "Let's give them a few minutes. Besides, I have a feeling that when Elizabeth gets done with him, he's gonna need some ice."

Lorne winced.

* * *

John shut the door, checking to make sure it was locked. As soon as he was sure no one would bother them, he started. "Are you out of your mind?"

"John, calm down. This isn't a big deal."

"Oh, I'm calm. And yeah, this is a big deal."

"Jack agreed that this was the best way to proceed. As long as Steven keeps his mouth shut, there won't be any problems."

"Yeah, that's the part I'm worried about," John grimaced, running both hands through his hair as they paced around each other. Elizabeth had crossed her arms, sighing every time that John let another complaint fly.

"What, you don't trust him?"

"No," he replied immediately. "The snake went behind everybody's backs and tried to stage a coup de tat with Kinsey. Then he weaseled his way out of the whole mess that no one got blamed for. And -"

Elizabeth peered up at him, the black frame glasses still perched on her nose. "And what?" she asked.

John groaned, sitting on the edge of the table as Elizabeth came to stand in front of him. "I don't like it, that's all."

"That's rather vague, Detective," she replied, her tone humorous. When he didn't respond, she lifted his chin with her slender hand. "Hey. I'm a big girl. I can handle him, don't worry. If he asks me out one more time, I'll punch him."

John chuckled. "I'd like to see that," he admitted with a small grin on his face.

She moved closer, brushing her legs against his. "Don't worry about me."

"Easier said than done," he replied huskily, stretching his arms around her and pulling her towards him. "Sorry I went off on you again," he apologized into her hair.

She held the back of his neck. "Sorry I'm making you worry about me."

He pulled back slightly at that comment and stared at her. "You could be at home with Sedge in bed and I would still worry about you. That's just - what I mean is, I may not be the best at all this emotional crap, but I'm better at it with you." He leaned forward, planting a long and tender kiss on her forehead. "Love you."

"I love you." Without any warning, she maneuvered her head and painstakingly began placing small kisses down the length of his neck.

"Umm, 'Lizabeth?"

"Hmm?"

"Whatcha doing?" he asked, his voice higher pitched than normal.

"Making out with my boyfriend," she simply replied. When she felt him stiffen, she released him, pouting as she looked at him. "What's wrong?"

"The windows," he quickly replied, nodding his head towards the dark tinted glass between them and the observation room.

Elizabeth glanced at the windows, releasing a frustrated sigh. "I can't get a break with you, can I?" she asked, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

John bit his lip, then suddenly moved his hands, settling around her waist. He gently pushed her away, licking his lower lip as he said quietly, "Stay here."

He went to the door, unlocked and opened it, then heard him say, "No, we're not done, Elizabeth!"

A door creaked. She heard the lock click on the other door, then he returned to the room, slamming the door behind him.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "John?"

When he finally turned around, she shuddered. The last time that she had seen his eyes that dark, that craving look on his face, it was the last time they had made love.

Before she knew it, lips were crashing, hands were mingling through hair, and she reached to remove her glasses.

He managed to distract himself long enough to pull her hand away, murmuring, "Leave them on," as he continued to repeat her motions from before he left the room.

She smiled as he pressed his lips to hers, drowning in the moment.

* * *

_Wednesday evening. 5:30pm._

Amelia Banks was an observant person. Being someone of small stature, most people who knew that she was a cop thought she was relatively harmless.

The scumbags who had been in fights with the black belt, however, begged to differ.

Her father had trained her from an early age to notice things about people and places, things that most would take for granted. In her opinion, the lack of attention made the world oblivious to so much.

In her case, her eye for detail not only made her a unique asset to the force, but here in the bar and grille as well.

Tonight, it seemed that all of the cops and doctors she knew were here. McKay and Keller sat at a table for two, near the entrance to the kitchen. The continuous arrogant frown on his face, his most obvious identifier, had slowly been replaced over the course of a few weeks by a look of - well, peace was the best term she could think of.

Amelia smiled, looking down as she placed the glass pints upside down in a container holding ice. Some people had raised their eyebrows when they learned the two doctors were seeing each other, herself included. What exactly did the young, mild Jennifer Keller see in the egotistical, older Rodney McKay?

However, as Rodney said something, producing a smile on her lips, she reached over to take his hand, meeting his gaze, only aware of each other.

Amelia hadn't seen either of them smile like that for a long time.

On the other side of the room, in a booth on the lower level, Evan Lorne and Laura Cadman were sliding in on one side. At the same time, Cameron Mitchell walked over, nodding as he sat on the other side.

Amelia immediately noticed the pointed glance Lorne shot at his girlfriend, somewhere between apology and permission.

Laura raised her eyebrows and shrugged, a classic "Sure, why not?" gesture. She held the posture for a quick moment, then looked between the two detectives, mischief in her eyes. The quick witted woman said something to them, then crossed her arms and leaned back in satisfaction.

_Probably challenging them to a dual for the dinner bill,_ she silently assumed.

Lorne and Mitchell glared at each other, then extended their arms for a decisive arm wrestling match.

She chuckled, then felt a new presence at the bar.

Down at the end, John Sheppard had just taken a seat, sighing as he sat down. The location was isolated, but it provided a good vantage point of the entire seating area, as well as a straight shot to the door.

Amelia slung a towel over her shoulder. "Hey, John," she greeted, picking up a shot glass and a half empty bottle of Jack Daniel.

Sheppard turned and nodded at her. "Just a beer," he replied, seeing the contents of her hands.

She laughed. "Not a problem. This wasn't for you, anyway," she told him with a wink, placing it on the counter next to him.

"Drinking on the job?" he asked.

"Quality control," she retorted quickly, placing a cold glass of Guinness in front of him.

He sat up, slightly groaning. "And I need a glass of red wine, too."

"Elizabeth's coming, too?" she clarified.

"No, it's for Ronan," he teased, smiling back at her.

The door opened again and John's eyes immediately looked that direction. Instead of Elizabeth, however, Jack and Sam walked in, the new father carrying his daughter in his arms.

John did a half smile, then turned back to Amelia. "So, speaking of Ronan?"

"I haven't seen him for a few days, actually," she answered, pouring a small amount of whiskey. She wasn't actually going to drink while she was working. Everybody knew it. She put it off to the side, anticipating Ronan's arrival, and leaned her elbows on the rounded edge of the bar. "I thought he might be here tonight, given the amount of friends that were here."

John shrugged. "I dunno," he answered. He took a drink, then turned around, letting his eyes roam around the bar.

Amelia pushed herself up, now leaning on her hands, and took in the view. Married, dating, serious couples filled the area. They all talked, laughed, whined together like a family.

At that moment, Amelia realized something. The owners misnamed the bar.

It should have been called Cheers.

* * *

A few moments later than she planned, Elizabeth Weir arrived outside the bar and grille that most of their mutual friends favored. Tonight, it appeared that everyone came.

She passed Jack and Sam, showing off their daughter to a few cops, and walked towards the bar. She didn't even have to look for him. He was staring at her in happy contentment from the second she walked in.

"Hey," she said, giving him a small kiss on the lips.

"Hey yourself. So, how was work?"

Elizabeth groaned. "Caldwell wants to meet with me tomorrow. Officially, it's my final interview."

John grimaced. "And unofficially, it's Caldwell digging for answers." He reached for the beer in front of him and took a heavy gulp.

The medical examiner smiled. "Don't worry," she reassured him, laying a hand over his. "I'm bringing backup with me."

"Who?"

Casting a gaze at one person in particular, Elizabeth waited to make sure John followed her eyes. When they finally landed, he raised his eyebrows. Then he laughed. "Oh, I wish I was gonna be there tomorrow. I want to see who starts the fight."

From across the room, Jack O'Neill nodded at them with a smile, then turned his attention back to his family.

* * *

Thanks for your continued reading! I hope everyone enjoys, and please leave a review!


	17. Interviews and Accusations

Hi, everybody! Sorry it's been so long since I posted a new chapter. I moved unexpectedly, and stories got moved around on my iPod, my netbook, and my laptop. It's a short chapter, but I thought it was better than nothing!

Please enjoy! Another chapter will be ready soon!

Previously: Elizabeth went undercover at a law firm, only to find an old "friend" working there. Jack agrees to meet with them to explain the op.

* * *

_Thursday morning. 9:00am._

Holding a mug of strong coffee, Steven Caldwell shot a pleased glance at Elizabeth as she exited the elevator, her bag in hand. He had worried that after meeting yesterday, she might not come back. She had made it clear that she was here under an alias; the specific reason had been withheld, even after he offered dinner. Now, as she walked towards him, wearing a tan colored suit with a red blouse, his spirits were lifted and he smiled eagerly.

His satisfaction quickly disappeared, however, at seeing another familiar person walk out of the elevator behind the brunette. "Steven!" Sarah James called out, motioning him over with a wave of her hand. "I'd like you to meet one of my law professors. Steven Caldwell, Richard Allen."

Steven forced a polite smile, extending his hand. "Professor."

Jack O'Neill, similarly clad in a dark suit, returned the man's handshake with an equally strong grip. "Counselor."

"Let's talk in the conference room, shall we?" Elizabeth offered.

After firmly locking and shutting the door, the lawyer took a seat at the head of the table, subconsciously straightening the jacket of the black Armani suit that he wore. O'Neill and Elizabeth sat down to his left, glancing at each other in a silent game of "You, no you, no you," until Jack finally spoke.

"Well, now that all the pleasantries are out of the way, the reason I'm here, Caldwell, is to brief you on an op we're currently running."

Caldwell gently placed the coffee down on the polished table top. "Involving this firm?" he asked bluntly, tapping a pencil against the tabletop.

Elizabeth nodded. "I'm here undercover. We believe that a serial killer is targeting law firms - specifically, the female paralegals and assistants who work there."

Caldwell felt a sudden rush of adrenaline. His eyes narrowed in anger; how dare the police department use an innocent woman like this! He almost jumped to his feet, ready to storm out the door and talk to his boss until someone cleared their throat.

Jack sighed, turning to look at him. "Elizabeth volunteered to try and lure him out," he clarified, glancing between the other two people in the room.

Caldwell slowly realized the real reason why Elizabeth was here. She was being put in harm's way, but it was her decision.

It was just making his headache worse.

He groaned, leaning forward on the desk, clasping his hands together. "What proof do you have that makes you believe the firm is involved?"

"It's not the firm itself that is the connection. The three women that have been kidnapped and murdered all worked at law firms in the area that recently had their security systems updated by Kenmore Security."

Caldwell's eyes widened at hearing the name. He grumbled. "I should've known Sheppard was involved."

Now it was Elizabeth's turn to be surprised. "Excuse me?" she asked in shock.

Jack laid a hand on her wrist. Turning his glare back to Caldwell, he replied, as calmly as possible, "Detective Sheppard is working on this case, but he isn't the one who made the connection."

"I don't care if an alien made the connection! John Sheppard has had a vendetta out for Kenmore ever since he got shot. He's only manipulating you into believing this false claim."

Elizabeth stood quickly. Steven observed her composure: her lips were pressed firmly together, her green eyes were intent, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyebrows were curved in a unique way. Many termed it the "eyebrow of doom".

However, it was the flushed cheeks, the intense breathing that brought something to light for Steven. Before she had a chance to protest, he glanced innocently at her. "Elizabeth. Are you sleeping with Sheppard?"

She tensed up. Her jaw fell. Her green eyes widened to the point that the white was visible all the way around her iris. Caldwell repressed a smirk. He had been practicing law for twenty years. He knew what guilty looked like.

At the moment, it looked like a certain coroner.

"What?" she asked ridiculously in a low voice, sending the full fury of her glare towards him.

Caldwell didn't relent. "Well? Are you?"

Next to her, Jack looked upwards, eyebrows raised. It appeared that the captain was out of the loop. He had no idea what was going on in his detectives' personal lives.

Slowly, Jack stood. He leaned over and whispered, "We'll discuss this later." Looking over to address Caldwell, he smirked. "The police department has the authority from the district attorney's office to conduct this op. If you interfere in any way, I'll arrest you for obstruction of justice."

Caldwell snorted. "You wouldn't dare."

O'Neill's brown eyes laughed at him. "Try me."

Caldwell watched them pick up their bags and leave the room, a slightly embarrassed flush on Weir's face still apparent. He rolled his eyes, crossing his arms as he paced the length of the conference room.

Even if O'Neill went off his rocker and arrested him, they both knew that the charges wouldn't stick. Still, Caldwell paused in thought for a moment. Jack O'Neill was known for not taking any crap from anybody, no matter what. If they had a reason for infiltrating the law offices, O'Neill didn't make the decision lightly.

He circled back around to his chair. He sat down, pulled the MacBook Pro towards him, and opened the news articles about the recent murders.

* * *

Next: Is John and Elizabeth's relationship going to affect the case? What will Jack do? What's the worst that could happen?


	18. Admittance and Discoveries

Hello everyone! Sorry it took me so long to update, so I made this chapter extra meaty. BIG plot point finally gets revealed.

Thanks to everyone on the Sparky GateWorld thread who's always said such nice things ... even if they didn't mean them. :-D

* * *

CHAPTER 18

_Thursday morning, 11:00 am._

Jack O'Neill plopped down in his office chair, running a tired hand over his tired face. The conversation with Caldwell had taken an interesting turn after Sheppard and Elizabeth's relationship got called out. He didn't need to be an expert to read her face, her body language; he had known that something was going on between them for a while now, but he did his best to keep to himself, not wanting to know the particulars about their relationship, preferring to remain in the dark. The less he knew about this like that, the better.

Until an hour ago.

The car ride back to the station was unusually silent, save for the taxi driver's muttered curses and hushed oldies music on the radio. Jack wasn't a man of many words anyway, but it wouldn't have mattered even if he had wanted to talk. The look on Elizabeth's pale face was fragile; the strong willed woman next to him, normally the calm voice of reason, looked close to breaking down.

The taxi emptied them in front and Jack paid the fare as she walked slowly towards the doors. His worried eyes watched as she thanked him blankly as he held the door open. They walked into the station and went separate directions. He slowly closed his door, watching as Elizabeth painstakingly made her way to John's desk.

Now, Jack stared at the pen he was twirling between his fingers. Glancing at the laptop that was waiting for his password, he decided to let things be. He knew from experience how this was going to go.

* * *

John Sheppard glared at the folder laid open in front of him, trying to goad the papers into giving him new information. With this case, it seemed that every lead turned into a dead end. They never heard back from Aiden Ford about his temporary roommate; it seemed he had been left behind by Walston as well. The DNA didn't provide any clues about Kendra Billings' whereabouts, or even if she was still alive. This jerk was managing to stay well underneath the radar.

Missing breakfast with Elizabeth had made his day even more insufferable.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the door shutting to O'Neill's office. _They must be back_, John silently concluded.

At that moment, Elizabeth approached his desk. "We need to talk."

John's face scrunched into a frown. "I take it you didn't get the job?"

"John," she moaned, running her hands over her face. "Can you try being serious, just for one minute?"

The detective narrowed his eyes again. Something was definitely up. "Sorry," he replied in a hushed whisper. He glanced around him, noticing the uniforms still lingering, and looked back to Elizabeth. "Interrogation?"

She nodded hurriedly, then stood back as he pushed his desk chair backwards and rose, leading the way to the isolated room.

Once inside, he locked the door with his key. "All right. What's going on?"

Elizabeth had walked to the far corner of the room, putting space between them. Her arms were crossed defensively in front of her chest, and she breathed in and out heavily, almost panting.

In the two years that he had known her, he didn't think he had ever seen her as alarmed as she was right now.

"Caldwell—" she finally blurted, biting her lip nervously before continuing. "Caldwell outed us."

"What do you mean? To the firm?" John asked, slipping his hands into his pockets as he circled around the table.

"No," she answered quietly, watching the floor in unfounded fascination.

"Who did he tell?"

"Jack. He told Jack about us."

_Us?_

"He asked me if we were sleeping together. And I couldn't answer either way."

_Damn it._

He raised his eyebrows, then pulled a hand out of his pocket and gestured. "So Caldwell thinks that we're fooling around and … what? He's not gonna let us run the op?"

Elizabeth's mouth dropped in astonishment as she dropped her arms to her sides. "Both of our careers are in jeopardy and all you care about is the case?"

"Wha – no, that's not what I said."

"Judging by what you _did_ say, it sounds like the case is all you can think about!"

"Elizabeth, now is not the time to be dealing with this."

"I disagree! We said we would never allow our relationship to interfere with work, and by now Caldwell has probably called someone in the ADA's office or, God forbid, _Kinsey_, and every judgment, every case, every report is going to come under scrutiny." Elizabeth paced around the table, standing in front of him with her arms circled around her back. She looked up at him from behind red rimmed eyes. "I don't think …" she trailed off, eyes darting frantically around as she tried to regain her composure.

John tilted his head, trying to get her green eyes back in sync with his hazel ones. "You don't think … what?"

She tried to suppress a sniffle but failed. "I don't think we should see each other anymore."

"No, Elizabeth. Don't overreact."

"We never should have gotten involved in the first place," she concluded, sounding broken.

"_No_," was John's firm reply.

That got Elizabeth to finally raise her head and look at him. "No?" she repeated in a puzzled tone.

Pressing his lips together, he gave careful thought to the next words coming out of his mouth. He didn't want to injure their fragile relationship any more than the events of this morning already had. And knowing the way he had with words, there was a good chance that speaking would do more harm than good. No matter what he said.

So instead of immediately speaking again, John gently enveloped her in his arms, pulling her closer despite the uneasiness that Elizabeth was feeling. He put one hand around her waist, one hand behind her head, holding her securely but not forcefully.

Within the embrace, Elizabeth seemed to soften a little. "I'm sorry," she whispered, so hushed that he barely heard her.

He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "Don't worry. Everything will be okay. Just give it some time."

The nod she replied with lacked in confidence.

* * *

Elizabeth walked next to John, almost behind him, on the way to the captain's office. John reached out with one hand and, just before he knocked, his other hand reached out for hers and gave her a hurried supportive squeeze. He smiled, and then knocked.

"Come in."

John opened the door, motioning for her to enter first, and she took a seat in the leather covered chair on Jack's left hand side. John took the opposing seat after he closed the door behind him.

In front of them, Jack clasped his hands on the desk. "I assume I know why you're here." Turning his attention to Elizabeth, he continued, "About what Caldwell said before?"

She nodded, glancing sideways at John, and began to speak.

Until the phone rang.

Holding up a silencing finger, he reached for the receiver. "O'Neill," the police captain replied while looking at the detective and doctor sitting in front of him.

Elizabeth pressed her lips together nervously. She was starting to worry even more; despite the reassurance he had given her earlier, his face appeared stoic, seeming to think nothing of the information that could prove fatal for their careers.

Elizabeth tried to make out the muffled voice, but to no avail. Letting out a resigned sigh, she turned in her seat, looking powerlessly at John as he leaned back, crossing his arms, glancing over at her with a brief half-smile.

She turned away. The impact of Caldwell's words had been building up inside of her ever since she heard them uttered, and the shock and disbelief had washed away. She realized they had been replaced by an emotion that could do much more harm to her.

Fear.

She wasn't afraid of Caldwell, by any means. It wasn't even fear of what he could do to them. Instead, it was distress caused by knowing that this could be the thing that tore them apart. True, Elizabeth Weir was her own person; she had her own identity without John. Being with John, however, made life much more enjoyable.

Knowing that she had the honor of sharing a life with him almost made her feel guilty, too.

Jack muttered something, causing her to raise her eyes. His frown had deepened, and he nodded every few seconds. When he finally gazed up at her, his brown eyes weren't telling her anything.

It wasn't reassuring.

Waiting for the worst, she began wringing her hands in her lap, staring so intensely at them that she was surprised a hole didn't appear.

A hand reached over from her right. John's calloused hand slowly, gently covered hers, attempting to massage the tension out of them. His other hand slowly tipped her head upwards again, making eye contact. His hazel eyes had softened, discarding the confident persona that he had worn only moments before. "We're gonna be okay. No matter what."

"I know," she replied softly, her doubts starting to fade. She let herself smile for a brief moment until Jack put down the receiver.

"Well, that was Caldwell. After doing a bit of research, he's seen the light. He's agreed to hire you," he revealed.

Beside her, John breathed out a sigh of relief, beginning to stand from his seat. "Well, now that _that's_ over with—"

"We still have some unfinished business, Detective Sheppard," Jack crisply interrupted, pulling a manila folder out of his desk drawer.

As John slowly lowered himself back into the seat, Elizabeth observed the file, its thickness, the worn edges. "That's his personnel file," she stated in confusion.

"Yes, it is. Well, my copy of it, at least. Now, would either of you like to tell me what is going on before I get cranky and write something in here I might regret?"

They simultaneously looked at each other.

"Sir-" "Jack-"

"Aah, aah, aah!" O'Neill held up a hand towards them. "One at a time. Ladies first."

Elizabeth took a breath to steady herself, then said what she'd been rehearsing in her head for what felt like an eternity. "John and I are in a relationship."

_There. I said it._

Somehow, it didn't sound as dramatic as she had thought it would.

Jack simply nodded, looking down at the blank paper in front of him. "How long?"

"Eight months."

Usually, Elizabeth had the feeling, Jack would continue berating them with questions, interrogating them mercilessly before IA would get ahold of them. However, he crooked his head to the side, pursing his lips in contemplation. It was ironic that for a man of few words, his face spoke volumes at the moment.

Jack sighed, then crumpled up the paper and closed the file.

Seeing the bewildered looks from the people in the room, Jack held his hands together in front of his face. "I really have only two questions. Is this just a fling, or do you really care for each other?"

John raised his head, his steely determination coming back. "I love her. A lot more than I'm supposed to."

A faint smirk passed across Jack's face, and Elizabeth wondered if he hadn't been asked a similar question when he and Sam were soon to be married. From the way his fatigued face had softened, she would assume that was a yes.

The captain turned to look at her. "Elizabeth?"

"Yes, I do," was her immediate reply, and John's hand tightened over hers.

Jack allowed a small smile. "Has this relationship ever interfered with your duties as a medical examiner and a Metro detective?"

"No," they answered simultaneously.

With a decisive nod, Jack put the file back in the drawer and threw the blank, crumpled paper in the trash can next to the desk. "I've been in your shoes. IA tried to kill me when they found out about me and Carter. But I trust both of you. Unconditionally," he added, staring intensely at John and Elizabeth. "And I know you would never do anything that would hurt the departments. It hasn't gotten you in trouble so far. Keep it that way." The captain nodded at them dismissively, but as they stood from their seats he cleared his throat, making them look back at him.

"Off the record? It's about time."

John grinned. "Yes, sir."

"Elizabeth," Jack called as she opened the door.

She glanced back behind her as Jack walked around the corner of his desk.

"You need to report to Parker and Gilliland ASAP. Caldwell wants you working now."

She nodded at him in confirmation, and then glanced over at John. "Do you mind giving me a ride?"

"Sure," he quietly answered.

The majority of the car ride was silent, except for the heavy exhales and the occasional blaring passing radios. When they neared the law firm, John pulled into a parallel spot and put the transmission into park.

Elizabeth glanced at him worriedly. "John? What's the matter?"

"I'm still not too confident about this," he told her frankly, shifting sideways in his seat.

Tilting her head, she squinted. "Confident about the situation? Or confident about me?"

John opened his mouth again to reply but she quickly silenced him with a finger to his lips. "John, if you're still dwelling on this, we need to discuss it. Once and for all."

He sighed, then reached around for the small hand in front of his face. "It's not your abilities I'm doubting. It's just … I don't think you're the most qualified person for this job."

Elizabeth groaned. "We've been over this, John." Tapping a finger to the black rimmed glasses she was still wearing, she reiterated, "Remember, the lab can still see everything I do at work. I'll be fine. I don't know what I can do to reassure you."

John's hazel eyes bored into hers for one serious moment. "Kiss me."

Repressing a snort, she answered, "T_hat's_ the best thing you can come up with?"

He half shrugged. "It calms me. Don't ask me how, but it does."

Elizabeth leaned over, moving into his personal space. "I love you, John Sheppard. But we still have some issues to work out, and our relationship will never be 100% solidified until we resolve them. Agreed?"

He nodded. "Agreed."

Despite the mature man that she knew he really was, John appeared very much like a heartbroken boy whose crush had just turned him down for the prom.

Seeing how childlike he could be only made Elizabeth love him more.

She pressed her lips to his cheek for only a second, murmured, "Thanks for the ride," and opened the door, letting herself out.

Just as she closed it, she heard a sarcastic, "That's all I get?"

Elizabeth just smiled and walked into the humid Metro air.

* * *

_Thursday afternoon. 2:45pm._

Rodney McKay glanced at the DNA sample that filled two of the three monitors on his desk, glaring at the empty plate sitting close to the edge. Woolsey had been sequestered in a meeting all afternoon, and Elizabeth was working at the law firm. O'Neill had given strict orders for her cover not to be blown under any circumstances.

Out of fear for his life, McKay respected those wishes.

He took another glance at the paper plate on the desk, sighed, and considered going to get more snacks out of the lounge when someone appeared in his doorway. "Hey, Rodney."

He grinned. "Sam! Wha – what are you doing here?"

Sam Carter crossed her arms and shrugged. "I don't know. Just felt like coming by. I actually miss this place."

"Well, this place misses you. Have a seat!" he said, standing from his and moving to clear off all the papers on the opposite chair. "Sorry, uh, about all the papers and whatnot. So, how are you? How's, uh, Mandy?"

"Good. On both counts." Sam tilted her head as she smiled at him. "You're being too nice. What's wrong?"

"I'm bored to death. Elizabeth is gone. Woolsey is in a meeting and I can't leave without his authorization." He quickly held up a hand. "_His_ idea, not mine." He glanced quickly behind him at the screen with the same data he'd been staring at for the past thirty minutes. "And I feel like there's more to this than we can find at the moment."

Sam looked behind him as well. "What is it?"

"It's DNA from the tissue we recovered under the fingernails of Jackie Cooper. We ID'd it as a Shawn Walston, currently AWOL from an Air Force base in Tampa. He's connected to the disappearance and murder of two women in Florida as well. Same MO." He rested his chin in his cupped hand. "There's gotta be more for it to tell us, but so far, nothing."

Sam pulled out a pair of glasses from her jacket pocket. "Which databases did you run this through?"

"All of them."

"And this was the only hit?"

"Positive match," he replied, handing her the printed sheet of paper.

She glanced at the paper, skimming the details. With a quick blink, she looked back to the computer. "You said this was the only positive match?"

"Yeah?"

She handed the paper back, taking off her glasses. "Run it again. Don't eliminate anything."

Rodney grimaced. "What good does it do if we—"

"Just do it, McKay!" she yelled over her shoulder as she ran out of the room.

Rodney stared after her for a moment, and then rather smugly turned back to his workspace. "And she's back."

* * *

Jack's phone rang as he reentered his office. "O'Neill."

"_Jack. I think I know why Shawn Walston committed these murders."_

He raised an eyebrow. "Carter. I thought you're still on maternity leave."

"_Yeah. I am. I just stopped by the office to pick up something and—"_

"You got sucked back in. I know you can't stay away. Please tell me Mandy's not there with you. At a morgue."

"_No, she's with Janet. I'm running another search on Shawn Walston's DNA."_

"We already know who he is. Why repeat it?"

"_I've got a hunch."_

"About what?" he asked, sandwiching the phone between his head and shoulder.

"_How Shawn Walston is connected to these cases. His background information is perfectly in order. __Too__ perfect," _she emphasized.

"What are you saying, Carter?"

As she was about to reply, he heard a door slam through the line. "_Sam!_" a muffled voice echoed through the earpiece. "_DNA test is back. We got another hit_."

Jack heard a pause, assuming that McKay had shoved a file in front of his wife and it currently had her attention.

His wife gasped over the phone. "_Oh my God_."

"Carter? Fill me in."

"_Uh, maybe we should do this in person. Get everybody who's working on this case over here. McKay and I will be ready when you arrive_."

Jack smirked. "Yes, ma'am," and gently laid the phone back down.

He stared at it for a minute, then picked it up again, dialing Elizabeth's cell number.

* * *

At the cubicle desk she had been assigned at the law firm, Elizabeth kept her head down as she transcribed a conversation from a high profile divorce case the firm was currently handling. The couple had been married all of two years before the wife accused the husband of cheating on her with her best friend, then filed for divorce.

Almost immediately, the husband responded with a lawsuit for defamation. Ashamed, he confessed to the affair, and then turned the tables, claiming that his wife had gone and had an affair of her own.

Elizabeth couldn't help but smirk as she listened to the conversation that an informant had recorded at a swanky restaurant. The wife was meeting with her suspected fling on one side, while the husband was having dinner with a college buddy on the other.

They never even saw each other.

She felt a buzzing from her drawer and she paused the recording, removing the ear buds.

The call was from the precinct.

Jack's phone.

She glanced around and, seeing as how most of the other paralegals and secretaries were taking a break, she quietly answered it.

"Sarah James."

"_Can you get out for a while?_"

She laughed as she leaned over to pull her purse out of the drawer. "I think I can sneak away. How long are you planning?"

"_I dunno. Carter found something, said everybody who's working this case needs to be there to hear it. Meet us at the ME's office._"

"All right, an hour it is. I'll see you soon."

She slid her phone back into her purse and, with a grimace, stood and walked to Caldwell's door.

"Steven?"

Wearing a pair of glasses, Caldwell looked up from a folder he had been perusing. "Ms. James."

"I need to take a longer break and run an errand. Something's come up," she told him, hoping that he would understand the implications.

Steven narrowed his eyes, but she held her ground and stared back at him. With a quick glance behind her, he nodded as he tilted his head. "All right. But make sure you get your new security code from the alarm specialist near the front door."

Her eyes slowly widened as Steven's words sunk in. _He's here?_ she mouthed.

He nodded.

Elizabeth nodded back. "Will do," she replied as she slowly turned and looked around.

A man wearing a dark tan uniform was facing the alarm panel, currently running a data line into a tablet that he held in his hands. He didn't look unordinary by any means. Average height, medium build, brown hair. The logo on the arms of his jacket, however, identified the company he worked with and showed how strange he was.

Kenmore Security.

She took a deep breath, trying to steel herself for the project at hand. This was the reason why she was working at the firm, to place herself as bait. He needed to notice her, but she couldn't be too obvious. She wasn't going to go right up to him and flirt with him outright; at any rate, there was no indication that any of the victims had ever interacted with the security personnel. Nervously she wrung her hands, walked back to the cubicle and, appearing to take her purse, slammed a drawer.

It drew the attention of a few people around her.

Including the alarm specialist.

Elizabeth left the offices of Parker and Gilliland with a small satisfied smile.

* * *

As John Sheppard had entered the medical examiner's office, he was mulling over the words that he and Elizabeth had spoken earlier. It wasn't one of his best days, and he wanted to punch himself for even suggesting that Elizabeth was incompetent. She was one of the best; she never left a job unfinished, questions unanswered.

After everything that they had been through this morning, he was surprised she hadn't left him.

He walked sullenly down the hallway until he reached a conference room, almost bursting at the seams with the amount of people inside.

From the precinct were himself and O'Neill. Rodney and Zelenka had taken seats opposite each other near the front of the table and were bickering. Woolsey took a seat near the back wall. Lorne and Mitchell were parking the car. A new, shiny ActivBoard was mounted on the wall at the head of the table, replacing the plasma screen that used to be there.

And Dr. Samantha Carter was standing at the head of the table with her arms behind her.

John nodded to her. "Sam. Good to have you back," he greeted, extending a hand.

"It's good to be back, John. Have a seat. We're just waiting for Elizabeth."

He wanted to hide under the table. _I should've known she was coming. Of course she would be coming._

Across the table, the captain noticed his discomfort. "You okay, Sheppard?"

He smiled a very small smile. "Yeah. I'm good."

"You know I don't believe anything you say, right?"

"That makes two of us."

Jack bit his lip, then looked at a new figure in the doorway. "Elizabeth."

"I apologize for my tardiness," Elizabeth excused herself as she entered the room, taking a seat on the far side of the table, in between Rodney and Jack.

John leaned back in his chair, looking intently at her. _You okay?_ he mouthed to her.

She nodded, rather curtly, and then turned her attention to Sam. "What did you find?"

John clenched his teeth as Lorne and Mitchell filed in, closing the door behind them.

Sam cleared her throat. "We believe we know why Shawn Walston is connected to this case."

"Besides the fact that he's been kidnapping and killing women?" O'Neill quipped.

"We ran another DNA test, but we widened the parameters. If this person had hugged someone, we would be able to tell. We got a different hit."

The room went silent for a moment. Nobody wanted to ask the question.

"Who is it?" John finally asked.

Sam clicked the remote, and the picture that appeared on the ActivBoard behind her made John want to throw something.

"The DNA is a partial match to one Michael Kenmore," Rodney replied, looking about the room for everyone's reactions.

All the cops muttered curses under their breath. Radek hung his head. Elizabeth looked completely astonished.

John's face was full of fury. "How the hell did we miss this?"

Sam crossed her arms. "We don't know. Whether it's a partial or a 100 percent match, it should've come through."

"So Kenmore's been behind this the entire time?" Evan Lorne asked, furrowing his face in a frown.

Sam shook her head. "The DNA doesn't _belong_ to Kenmore. It's a partial match, which means that he shares DNA with Shawn Walston. They're family."

Trying to muffle a groan, John ran his hands over his face, casting a glance in Elizabeth's direction. She had an intense stare fixed on him that he could interpret too well. It was her classic _don't do anything stupid_ look.

"So back to Sheppard's question," Jack began. "How _did_ we miss this?"

"Maybe someone at the lab tampered with the sample," Cameron Mitchell offered from the back of the table with a shrug.

Elizabeth shook her head. "No. No one here would do that. What would they have to gain?"

"A lot, if they were on Kenmore's payroll," a new voice insisted as the door slowly opened.

John turned in his seat with a slight smile. "Ronan. Long time, no see, buddy."

"Sorry, Sheppard, I had a couple of leads I needed to sit on," Ronan Dex apologized as he walked into the conference room, shutting the door behind him.

"What'd you find?" O'Neill asked.

From inside his leather jacket, Ronan Dex removed a file folder. "A source told me that Kenmore's got spies all over the district right now. He's got a hand, big or small, in every agency. Including the ME's office."

He slid the folder to John, who quickly opened it and scrolled down a list of names and numbers.

"These are the government employees that Kenmore has on his payroll?" John asked in clarification.

"Yep. Two pages."

Lorne whistled softly. "Dirty cops. Just what I wanted."

"Check the highlight name in the middle of the page," Ronan told them.

John ran his eyes over it again, and scoffed. "Kavanagh."

Rodney leaned back in his chair, smirking. "I knew he was up to no good."

"Then why didn't you write him up? File a report?" John asked, glaring at the scientist.

Rodney sighed. "There was nothing concrete. If I wrote him up, it wouldn't be credible. In any case, if he got in trouble, he would kiss butt and get out of it."

Jack looked up. "Whose butt would Kavanagh be kissing?"

The tallest man in the room cleared his throat. "While I get that mental picture out of my head, I did find something else," Ronan spoke again, flipping to the end of the file in front of him. "I located the driver that Walston replaced."

"Really?" Elizabeth asked, turning her full attention to him. "What did you find?"

"His name is Jim Howell. He did break a leg, falling off a loading dock. He told me that before he fell, Kenmore was talking about his little brother coming to visit." Ronan looked up with a crooked smile. "Seems murder and treason run in the family."

John, along with Mitchell and Lorne, immediately turned their attention to their captain.

Jack looked intently at each of them as he spoke. "Get birth certificates for Kenmore and Walston. I wanna know everything about them. Who are their parents? Where did they grow up? What were their grades in school? Everything."

"Jack, if you start digging around in Kenmore's files, it'll set off alarms," Sam warned him.

Jack rested his elbows on the tabletop. "The force has been treating Kenmore with kid gloves ever since – ever since he went bad. Nobody wants it riled up." He leaned forward, his eyes focusing on each person in the room as he turned his head. "It's time we found out why."

Across the table, John swallowed a nervous gulp. A dark part of his history was about to be dug up.

* * *

Please review! Thank you again so much for reading!


	19. Facing Demons

This chapter reveals the dark history between John Sheppard and Michael Kenmore. Sorry you've had to wait so long!

* * *

CHAPTER 19

_Thursday afternoon, 5:15pm_

At the desk she hadn't used in almost two months, Samantha Carter sat with her cheek in one hand, staring blankly at the photos of the three victims in front of her. They had all been missing for so long. Time was running out. And there were no leads as to the whereabouts of Kendra Billings.

If she was even still alive, that is.

Sam sighed and shuffled a stack of papers on her desk as her husband walked in, a leather jacket over the crook of his arm. A tired smile graced his tired face as he greeted his wife. "I thought you were just checking on things?"

She smiled shyly back at him. "I guess I got a little carried away."

Still smirking, Jack took a seat in front of his wife's desk. "I wouldn't expect any different from you." Seeing the faces of the victims looking up at his wife, he glanced up at her. "Anything?"

Shaking her head, she released a moan of desperation. "Nothing."

For as long as they had been working this case, for as much as they knew about the people involved, they were still no closer to finishing it. Sam remembered when her mother had died. The Carter family had no relief, no closure, until they knew completely what had happened that tragic day. Sam knew her father's heart never fully healed after that, dying brokenhearted.

She didn't want the families of these three women to experience that. And she would do everything in her power to make it so.

Sam sighed again, then looked over the desk at Jack. He had changed into a pair of jeans and a long sleeve black shirt, highlighting just how grey – really, how white, his hair had become over the last five years. His brown eyes were watching her in return, shining with a desire to help, and also to get home and enjoy their little family.

"I guess we should head over to Janet's. Pick up Mandy," she finally voiced again.

"Yeah," Jack returned quietly. When she didn't move, he stood and walked to the corner of her desk, taking a seat. Cupping her cheek, he turned her face toward him. "You can't save everybody," he gently reminded her as her hand wrapped around his.

"I know," she replied in a small voice, sounding helpless.

Jack leaned over and softly kissed her forehead. "C'mon. Let's go home."

* * *

Across town at the precinct, the noses of Sheppard, Lorne, and Mitchell were still glued to their desk as they reviewed the case information presented to them. The captain had petitioned the ADA to grant them unrestricted access to the files pertaining to Michael Kenmore. Unfortunately, a judge wasn't available to sign the warrant yet, and so as O'Neill left for the night he instructed his detectives to review all the material they had available to them for the moment.

So far, there was not one solid lead to help them find Walston.

It was a shame they couldn't just ask Michael Kenmore where his little brother was hiding out. Until the judge signed the warrant and gave them the authority to serve it, they all felt a little useless. Maybe it was a good thing, Evan Lorne reflected, that they didn't go see Kenmore. He wasn't sure if, between himself and Mitchell, they would be able to hold John back.

Evan knew the history between his partner and Kenmore was dark. For the first few months of working together, he wondered exactly what pile of crap he had stepped into, being placed with Sheppard right after his promotion, just after John had gotten released from the hospital. Finally, after six months of partnership John trusted him enough that he finally told him the basics; he worked with Kenmore, he turned, and John got shot.

It was times like these that made him wonder if destiny and fate were real, or elements that literature had invented to explain these bizarre incidents in life that people wanted no responsibility for.

Leaning back in the creaky wooden chair, he reached into his pocket and checked his Droid. He was surprised that there were no text messages from Laura, seeing as how they were supposed to hang out tonight. However, ever since the discovery of Kenmore and Walston's relationship, he had a feeling that he was going to be here for a while.

John sat across from him, their desks facing each other. He blew out a big breath of air, then suddenly laid his head down on the desk and groaned. "I hate my job," he mumbled between the papers and his arms.

Lorne smirked, then shot a look over to Cameron Mitchell, his desk residing diagonally from theirs. Cam's eyes appeared to be glazed over.

A crumpled piece of paper hitting him in the head cleared some of the drowsiness away. "Hey Cam, wanna make a Starbucks run?" Evan asked as he smiled, looking downwards at his desk.

Mitchell rolled his eyes and grumbled.

The sound of the doors opening drew the attention of all three men.

"Hello, boys," Laura Cadman's voice echoed through the squad room as she entered, her hands holding a coffee carrier with four to-go cups from Starbucks in it.

Evan didn't think he had ever seen a more beautiful sight.

She made the rounds, stopping at each of their desks. To John, she said, "Black with hazelnut creamer," as she handed him the cup.

Sheppard nodded appreciatively at her, then took a sip and went back to work.

She placed the next cup on Mitchell's desk. "Vanilla latte."

Drowsily, Cam looked up at her. In a voice laced with exhaustion, he replied, "I love you."

"That's what all you flyboys say," she replied saucily with a wink. "And last but not least," she announced as she set the carrier on Evan's desk, "coffee with extra cream and sugar."

"You're a miracle worker," he responded simply, pure gratitude in his eyes.

"You're welcome." Taking a seat next to him, she rubbed her hands together eagerly. "Y'all need some help?"

John shrugged. "Captain told us we shouldn't discuss this with anyone else at the moment."

Evan shot his partner a glare. "John, we can trust her." He was aware that Sheppard knew that, but he had a feeling that he didn't want any more people to know about this than necessary.

After a brief staring competition, John acquiesced. "It couldn't hurt, Cadman. Join the club."

"Thanks. So, where are you at?"

"Well, Kenmore is Shawn Walston's big brother."

"For real?" she asked, looking around at them for affirmative nods.

"Yep. Problem is, if Kenmore is hiding him, we can't just invade his offices or house. Walston will run and we won't find him again. We're waiting on a warrant right now to get access to his files. After … you know," John replied, lowering his eyes, "Kenmore's records, everything from the case, were sealed by court order after the investigation was over. The only way to find out what really happened without the files is to ask someone who was there."

Immediately, Evan's eyes darted to his partner. As the realization of his words crept in, John's face started to flush. Whether with anger or panic, Lorne wasn't sure.

"Oh crap," John muttered, looking around the room.

Confused, Laura looked back to Evan. "What is it?"

He bit his lip, wanting to keep the code of silence, but with a short nod from Sheppard, he opened his mouth. "John was Kenmore's partner when he went dirty. Somehow, John got shot in the ensuing chaos. After that, Kenmore went to prison and Sheppard to the hospital."

Laura's mouth gaped open, then she quickly shut it. "I didn't know all of that," she whispered to him.

He nodded. "Most people don't. John didn't even tell me the half of it until just six months ago."

Cadman glanced back over at Sheppard, still working at his desk, seeming to have not heard what was said. Either that, Lorne remarked silently, or he tuned it out, having heard it so many times that he was probably sick of it.

Just then, one of the ADAs walked into the station. "Detective Sheppard?" she called out.

Still focusing on the paperwork, he simply raised a hand and said, "Here!"

Lindsey Novak walked over to them, a pair of smart glasses on her face and an attaché case hanging from a strap over one shoulder. In her hand was a thick file case. "I got a present for you, John," she told him, handing the bulky files over.

He cast his eyes up at her. "Is this what I think it is?"

Evan looked at Novak as she nodded. "The entirety of the records that the district has for Michael Kenmore. Birth certificate, high school transcript, academy records, and everything pertaining to the shooting. It's all yours."

Sheppard grimaced. "I was kinda hoping never to see this again," he whined, taking it and setting it on his desk as Evan and Cam walked over.

Lorne looked at his partner. With everything that had transpired this past week, John Sheppard looked like an old man. He knew that he hadn't slept more than five hours a night for the past week, even on his day off. The crow's feet were becoming more pronounced around his eyes, and grey hairs were popping up every day.

At least, that's how it seemed.

"John. Go catch some sleep in the bunks. We'll start on this," Evan offered, moving slightly closer to the desk.

John ran his hands over his face. "No, no, I'm good."

"John," Laura joined in the pleading, moving around the boys and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder, "go take a nap. I'll keep an eye on the boys. We won't get this done right if you're not on top of your game."

He glanced around at everybody and eventually nodded. "I'll be in the bunks," he finally surrendered, standing from his desk chair and pushing it underneath the desk.

Evan watched him wander away from the squad room to a secluded area, quiet enough to allow him to sleep.

Next to him, Cameron crossed his arms. "All right, so Kenmore and Walston are brothers. Why didn't anyone know?"

Lindsey pulled another file from her attaché case. "I have something else that'll help. I found Shawn Walston's _real_ birth certificate. They have different fathers, but the same mother."

Cameron took the file, looking at the photocopied papers inside.

"So, Mom has an affair, gets knocked up, and Kenmore grows up trying to hide that fact?" Cadman asked as she circled around them, taking John's empty desk chair.

"Michael wanted to have the perfect life."

They turned around and looked behind them. On his way to sleep, John had seemingly paused and returned to the room, hands shoved into his pockets. "He was valedictorian in high school, placed well in college. When he went to the academy, he wanted to get on the fast track. He was a nice guy, but he knew who to push around to get his way."

"John, you don't need to do this right now," Evan told him, crossing his arms, ready to cuff him to the bunk if need be.

"Evan, if I don't do this now, I never will," he responded frankly, making eye contact with his partner.

Lindsey glanced at the detectives in the room, then walked up to John. "Know that whatever you say is off the record. We won't hold anything against you."

John nodded, and taking his desk chair, he began to speak.

* * *

Dr. Kate Heightmeyer had been leaving her office when a text message made her drop her bags and rush out to the squadroom.

_He's finally letting the cat out of the bag_.

Evan Lorne's words were not cryptic for her at all; after the mess that Sheppard and Kenmore had been embroiled in, he only selected a few people to be allowed to know. Those that needed to, he didn't have a choice.

However, this was the first time since the shooting that he had finally decided to open up to more than one person. And if it was necessary to disconcert himself for the sake of solving the case, it demonstrated a huge stride on John's part.

Kate wanted to witness it.

She entered the open room, standing behind a filing cabinet near the group. From his seat at his desk, John looked up and gave her a grateful glance, then continued.

"Kenmore and I were working undercover. We were assigned to infiltrate a drug ring with Kenmore posing as a buyer. One day, we met at the drop site. Kenmore went inside and I lost contact with him. His wire stopped working. I wasn't sure if it was technical issues or if he'd been made, so I sneaked inside. Kenmore was standing inside next to the dealer. Mexican by the name of Santos. Kenmore was not only pocketing the money, but a pack of dime bags in his jacket. He had cut a hole in the lining where nobody could see it.

"I realized what he was doing. I pulled my gun; so did Santos. Told Kenmore I wasn't gonna let him get away with this, and I was radioing for backup. Next thing I know, I'm lying on the ground, bleeding out. When I woke up in the hospital, Kenmore was outside the door telling the captain what happened."

John paused for a moment, seeming to collect his thoughts, as the door opened. Elizabeth Weir walked in the station, simply dressed in a pair of jeans, a black jacket covering her red blouse.

Kate saw the firework exchange between the two of them, silently emanating pity for them. They had been through a rough time today, even though Kate thought that the exposure was unnecessary.

"How did you know Kenmore was the one who shot you?" Laura Cadman bravely asked.

John smirked. "I asked them why they were leading away my partner in cuffs. As Kenmore was telling his sob story, ballistics made it a priority and found the slugs came from his service weapon."

"So not only did Kenmore shoot a fellow officer, but he was dealing drugs and making profits on the side. What a guy," Mitchell mused, crossing his arms.

"Yeah. Pretty much." John leaned back in his chair and sighed, letting out a small groan of liberation. "That wasn't as hard as I thought it was gonna be."

"'The truth shall set you free'," Elizabeth quoted emphatically.

John didn't reply.

Kate glanced around the room and decided, at that moment, to join the conversation. "Kenmore kept insisting that no one else was involved, but once Internal Affairs investigated, they found the money trail continued past him but dead ended."

"That doesn't matter now," John interrupted, crossing his arms. "It doesn't matter who Kenmore was working for, or why he shot me. The important question is, why is Walston killing these women, and how is Kenmore involved, aside from being his brother?"

A cell phone rang, and Novak reached into her attaché bag. "Novak," she answered, glancing around the room. "Yes? Uh-huh. He did? All right. I'll let them know." She ended the call, then raised her head to the surrounding crowd. "That was the ADA's office. They got a judge to sign the search warrant for Kenmore's offices and house. Marks will meet you there with the warrant."

Without a second thought, a second glance, Sheppard, Lorne, and Mitchell grabbed theirs shields and clipped them next to their holsters.

As John and Lorne raced towards the door, Cameron Mitchell hung back briefly. "Just out of curiosity: who was the judge?"

Lindsey smirked. "George Hammond."

TBC.


	20. A Warranted Beating

Thank you for your patience as I took a writing hiatus. RL got very hectic for me and I had to abandon this hobby temporarily. But I am back and planning on finishing this soon!

Please enjoy and leave a review! If there's anything you would like to see, or any errors you notice, please let me know. A review telling me I misspelled something at least lets me know that it's being read. :-)

* * *

John turned around just before he hit the doors, mouthing something to Elizabeth that she didn't quite catch. Two uniformed cops ran out of the room, racing to the home of Michael Kenmore. It startled her - how much they all appeared to be playing cowboys and Indians. Even though John had already been shot as a result of Kenmore's actions, they seemed eager - enthusiastic, even - to make the next move, to stay ahead of the bad guys. This was a real life chess game that was going to end in a gruesome checkmate, but the victor was still a mystery.

She gave up trying. In spite of the contented nod she had given John on his way out, her heart rate was increasing, her lungs weren't getting enough air, and the room around her was getting smaller. She crossed her arms and let out a shuddered sigh.

Next to her, Kate noticed her discomfort, laying a hand on her crossed arm. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.

Elizabeth stated at the floor, barely nodding her head. "Yeah."

"What are you worried about: that John will get hurt, or that John's going to shoot Kenmore?"

She let out a wry chuckle. "Both, unfortunately."

Laura smiled as she put her hands in the back pockets of her jeans. "Don't worry about them. Evan will make sure John doesn't do anything stupid. And in any case, I would think that John would want to see Kenmore suffer after the hell he put him through."

Elizabeth had to shrug in agreement, though the idea still left her unsettled. "I suppose it's not of any use to wait around here. I'm gonna go for a run."

"By yourself? C'mon, let me come with you," Laura suggested as the coroner began to walk away.

"No, that's okay. I'll call my mom, run over to her house. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

As she walked out, she pulled her Blackberry out and speed dialed her mother.

* * *

As John slammed the transmission into park on the street outside Kenmore's house, Evan Lorne looked sternly at his partner. "I know this goes without saying, but-"

"Talk first, shoot later?" John joked as he pulled the keys from the ignition.

Evan glared. "John."

John groaned, leaning his head back on the head rest. "I know, Lorne."

"He's gonna get you riled up. He's going to antagonize you. You're not even going to realize you have him in a chokehold until I pull you off."

John smirked. "What, are you suddenly an expert on your predecessor?"

"No," he replied simply. "I know you."

John swallowed this. He chuckled again, rolling his eyes before he tilted his head, regarding his partner. "You got my back?" he asked, raising a fist in the air.

Evan smiled as his fist met John's. "Always."

Behind them, Cameron Mitchell pulled in with Officer Kevin Marks riding shotgun.

John glanced at Lorne. "Showtime."

* * *

As she sat on a park bench, Elizabeth searched for her earbuds as she tuned her iPod to a downloaded Podcast from CNN, completely oblivious about the dark van parked at the other exit to the park.

* * *

Shawn Walston was tied to a chair in the downstairs basement, hit in the head with the butt of a gun. As the officers cleared the rest of the house, John and Lorne stood in front of him as he groaned in pain.

"Oh, I'm gonna kill him," Shawn groused as he regained consciousness.

John cocked his head, rubbing his chin. "Your brother, you mean?"

Shawn scoffed. "You must be John Sheppard."

"Why do you say that?" Evan asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Because Michael's had it out for you since day one and-"

"Yo, shut up, man!" another hog tied man shouted from the other corner.

"Forget it! He's going down one way or another, and after what he had me do, I'd like to have a hand in it!" Shawn argued.

Lorne squatted in front of him. "What do you mean, what he had you do?"

"That officer in Florida? Michael - he told me to off her, or I'd never see my mom again."

"That's all it took?" John asked in doubt.

"That and my mother screaming in the background as someone drew blood with a knife." He shrugged. "My brother had the decency to Skype me and show me the whole thing."

John grimaced. "Lovely. Nice to know he's still a dirt eating slime bag."

"Where's he at now?" Lorne asked, standing again.

They heard a pair of shoes as someone ran down the stairs. "There's a vehicle missing from the garage," Cam reported.

"Which one?" Shawn asked, craning his head.

"Well, _not _the Bentley, and _not _the Hummer," Cameron replied as he rolled his eyes.

Shawn gasped. "The - oh, this is not good."

"What?"

"The only one left is the unmarked utility van. That's the van he used to abduct those women."

"He didn't abduct them. Two of them were killed, and a third is still missing," Lorne responded.

"There's one more."

The detectives eyed each other. "No one else has gone missing. What are you talking about, a fourth?" John asked.

"Michael took the van. He said there's one last woman to take care of. A doctor, works for the city."

John knelt down and got at eye level with him. "Where is he?"

"Hell if I know. Last thing I remembered is him saying he had to go get the other woman and then me getting hit upside the head."

Lorne and Mitchell nodded at each other; John, on the other hand, grabbed the captive man by his shoulders and shook him angrily. "Give me a name!"

"Man, I told you already, I don't know!"

"You've been your brother's puppet from day one," John accused, not relenting. "He got you to kill that woman in Florida, then used you to abduct and kill the other three here."

For the first time, Walston's eyes widened in fear. "No, no, no, you got it wrong. He told me to scare them, that's all. I didn't hurt them at all."

"Then why was your face on a security camera from the scene of the first murder?" Lorne interjected, crossing his arms.

"And why was your DNA underneath the fingernails of victim number two?" Mitchell retorted, adding to the pile of accusations.

"I wasn't … it's not!" Walston shouted, shaking his head. "I scared that one lady in the alley, and walked away! I never even saw the others. Michael told me he'd take care of it, that'd I had done enough."

"'You'd done enough'?" John questioned, starting to stand but using his body weight to throw the chair sideways.

Walston yelped as his head collided with the concrete floor.

Lorne flew to John and held him back. "John! We need him lucid, not to mention alive."

John shook himself out of his partner's grip and stood over the curled up man. "Who is it?"

"I told you, I don't know!" he protested again, eyes darting around.

He chuckled darkly, then knelt down. "You've been used, but you're not innocent. Tell us what you know, and we'll make sure you aren't charged as harshly as you should be."

"You can't promise that," Walston replied through gritted teeth.

John cocked his head. "Yeah. You're right. Okay, change of plan. I'll make sure you don't die before trial. Deal?"

Walston nodded his head.

Cameron walked over to John and smacked him on the back of the head. "Smooth, Sheppard."

His hazel eyes blinked at him, unfazed.

They pulled the chair upright again as Lorne grabbed a rag for the cut on Shawn's forehead.

"All right. Spill."

"The third woman that got taken? Michael's got her stashed in a room at his offices. She was alive, as of this morning."

"What about the other one? The doctor that works for the city?"

Shawn gulped, starting to hesitate.

Evan saw the worry in his eyes and the impatience in John's. "If she's a federal employee," he informed him, "and you are an accessory, that sentence will be a lot worse than the others."

"Don't let your brother use you anymore," John encouraged after a minute, his eyes meeting up with the brown anxious eyes of the man tied up in front of him. "You're stronger than that."

Walston sighed, blinking as he looked at John. "I'm sorry. It wasn't anything personal … at least, on my account."

"Walston," Cameron's deep voice commanded, "who is your brother about to abduct?"

As soon as his mouth started to form the first syllable, John was already running for the stairs.

"Weir. Elizabeth Weir."

TBC.

* * *

Will they get to Elizabeth in time? Is Kendra Billings still alive? When two adversaries face each other for the last time, who will win?

... I'll let you know when the fic bunnies tell me what happens. :-D


	21. Kidnapped

I apologize to all the readers who have been waiting for the next chapter! RL threw me a couple of curve balls in the form of depression and ill health, and it was hard to get back on the wagon again. So thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy! The saga will be wrapping up soon, but not without some nail biting moments!

* * *

CHAPTER 21

_Thursday evening, 6:15pm_

She decided that it wasn't worth struggling anymore.

For Kendra Billings, the last five days of her life had passed agonizingly slow. She could cope with that one annoying teacher in high school that scraped her nails down the ancient chalkboard on a daily basis. She could deal with the drills that she did every day to stay on the basketball team. Even the unfathomable amount of work her boss would give her was a walk in the park compared to this.

Being locked up in a dark, windowless room without any knowledge of her whereabouts, given minimal food and water, had made her despondent.

She knew that in the wake of the other women who had been killed, Nichole would have reported her missing immediately. They had just been talking about it, right before Kendra left for her morning run. If she had known the chances that she was the next victim, she would have never left the apartment.

She sighed, pulling futilely against the plastic zip ties securely fastening her to the wooden chair. It was curious that she was still alive; the other victims had all been found murdered. And yet she, assuming that she was the third victim, was still alive, but barely. With the rage in the eyes of the men who had brought her the slightest amount of sustenance daily, she considered herself lucky. Maybe there was still a chance.

Just when optimism began to rebuild itself, it was quickly crushed, either by her own pessimism or by the harsh words she heard in the corridors outside.

She blinked blindly, knowing that when her eyes opened she would still see black.

Then she heard a loud footfall outside. Her eyes shot immediately to the door frame.

It was pushed open by the man who had kidnapped her as he dragged _another_ woman inside.

He didn't even bother to tie her up; the brunette woman was unconscious, and as her eyes adjusted to the bright light from the hallway Kendra noticed a bruise forming on her left upper cheek bone as she lay on the cool concrete floor.

_She put up a fight_, she remarked silently.

The man grimaced, then turned and shot her a beady glare.

All she could do was blink.

He sneered, then turned on his heel and walked out, slamming the door. She heard the locks click as her eyes began to readjust to the darkness.

The elation she felt at no longer being alone was quickly overshadowed by the need to talk to this woman. Seeing as how they had tied all of her limbs to the chair, Kendra couldn't use her foot to nudge the woman. And as much as she didn't want to alert her captors by using her voice, she didn't really see another alternative.

"Hey," she called in a sharp whisper. "Are you awake?"

The figure stirred, painstakingly turning her head with a heavy groan. "Umm. Just barely," she softly replied.

_Better than nothing._ "Do you know where you are?"

She shook her head as she rolled over, pressing the back of her head to the floor as she got her bearings. "No idea whatsoever." The woman glanced at her, and as her eyes became accustomed to the darkness, she blinked her eyes in surprise. "Kendra Billings."

It was Kendra's turn to widen her eyes. "You know me?"

"Besides your face being on the news for the past five days?"

_So it _has_ been five days. Wow. Felt like forever._

The woman continued. "I've been working on the case."

"You're a cop?"

The older woman shook her head as she sat up. "No. My name is Elizabeth Weir. I'm a medical examiner. I work with Metro PD."

"Do people think I'm dead?" she asked bluntly.

Weir rubbed her eyes and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You're a coroner who's been working on the case," Kendra slowly replied, "so I take it to mean that my kidnapping is connected to the other two women who were murdered."

"Connected, yes. But no one thinks you're dead. The other victims were found immediately after their kidnapping. They changed their M.O. with you. They didn't want to kill you."

"Then why have I been locked up for the past five days?" she asked quizzically, just as the answer came to her mind.

"You were bait. They were trying to get me."

"Who's they? And what did you do to piss them off?"

She saw a faint smile as she answered. "The only reason they kidnapped me is because the man behind all of this wants to get even with my – a very close friend of mine who's on the police force."

"So who did this?"

Elizabeth paused, then answered. "A former Metro detective named Michael Kenmore."

Kendra's eyes closed tight in frustration. "The security guy."

"Yes. The security agency is the connection between all of us. You all worked at law firms that staged break-ins and then got the bid for new alarm companies."

The paralegal narrowed her eyes. "You said 'all of us'. What do you mean by that?"

"I was working undercover as a legal secretary to draw them out."

Kendra looked around the room, then smiled at her. "Nice job."

Elizabeth chuckled. "Yes, I suppose so."

The women fell silent for a moment as they began to seriously contemplate their situation. If Elizabeth's kidnapping was part of a bigger plan, then surely that meant that there would be police looking for her. Given that they knew who was behind all of this, they would know where to look. Kenmore had houses, offices, warehouses - it wouldn't take long to narrow the search and find them.

Suddenly, her heart dropped. The words that Elizabeth had spoken earlier began to echo in her ears. _I am bait. I _was_ the bait. They have Elizabeth, which was their goal. So where does that leave me if they don't make it in time?_

"They don't have a use for me anymore," Kendra voiced aloud, causing Elizabeth to look up sharply at her.

"What?"

"They have you. If I was the bait to get you, and you are the bait to get the cops here, then they don't need me anymore."

She knew that Elizabeth couldn't deny that. However, judging by the next words to leave her mouth, it seemed that she had much more experience in keeping people calm.

"They have proven to be unpredictable in the past. I wouldn't discount that just yet."

Kendra nodded as she processed what that really meant. _We don't know for sure. They may not kill you._

Determined to stay cautiously optimistic, she sat back in the chair and waited for the rescue she wasn't positive was coming.

* * *

As Sam was relaxing in his recliner, their baby against her shoulder, Jack O'Neill's cell phone rang.

He groaned, hanging his head as he stood from the couch. "Don't I get a night off?"

Sam chuckled as she rubbed small circles on Mandy's back. "You're 'the man'. You asked for this."

He smirked, then answered his phone. "Yeah," he greeted casually, seeing as how he recognized the number.

"_Elizabeth's been kidnapped_," a panicked voice told him.

Jack spun around, brown eyes wide as he stared at Sam.

Her blue eyes shone with worry. _What is it?_ she mouthed.

"When?" Jack asked, gaze lingering on his wife.

"_Probably right after she left the precinct. We found Walston tied up in Kenmore's basement, but no sign of that arrogant bast_-"

"How do you know she's been taken?" Jack asked, trying his best to control the detective's flared temper while trying to rein in his own.

"_I called her mother. She said Elizabeth was at the park in front of her house going for a run, but it's been an hour. There's no sign of her_."

"Sheppard, she might've gone a different way."

"_Captain, I ran that same route with Elizabeth every week. She never changed it up, despite me asking her to. Besides, Walston said that Kenmore was grabbing her_."

Jack growled in his throat, grabbing his jacket that had been thrown over the back of the couch when they arrived home. "Maybe it's me, but you should've mentioned that first."

He heard a disappointed sigh. "_Yes, sir_," Sheppard quietly conceded.

"All right. Any idea where she would be?"

"_Walston said that Kenmore was still holding Kendra Billings at his office complex. Mitchell, Lorne, and I are on our way there right now_."

"All right, I'll meet you there. We're gonna get her back, John."

Sheppard shuddered as he exhaled. "_Yes, sir_."

"And Sheppard? Make sure you have witnesses when you shoot the son of a-"

"Jack!" Sam exclaimed from the recliner, throwing a pointed glare at her husband as she pointed at their infant daughter.

"Meet you there," Jack replied, ending the conversation. He slipped the phone into his pocket, then looked back at his wife.

Her blue eyes had lost some of their sparkle as she gathered the gist of his conversation. "He's taken Elizabeth, hasn't he?"

Jack opened his mouth to try and give a comforting reply, but he knew Carter. Straightforward techno babble was what she did best. He bit his lip and decided on direct. "Yeah. However, according to Walston, Kendra Billings is still alive."

Sam sighed. "It could be worse."

Jack nodded as he put on his jacket. "I gotta go. You gonna be all right?"

Sam smiled. "We'll be fine."

"Okay," he whispered, running his fingers through his hair. His eyes darted around the living room, then focused on her as he towered over her, giving her a reassuring kiss on the forehead. His brown eyes smiled in unison with his lips. "I love you."

"Love you back," she whispered. "Now go."

Jack grabbed his gun and badge and ran out the door.

* * *

Will they make it in time? Who survives?


	22. Showdown

As soon as I finished the last chapter, the fic bunnies returned from vacation and produced this in less than a day!

There will be one more chapter after this, an epilogue to wrap things up and tie up a few loose characters during this story.

Thanks so much for reading and reviewing, it means a lot to me!

* * *

CHAPTER 22

Shortly after sundown, the three detectives regrouped with the other officers in front of Kenmore's office building, a moderately sized five-story building with a service entrance around the back that led into the basement. The sides of the building were lit up by the street lights and the glow emanating from the neighboring office buildings.

Behind a black SUV, Laura Cadman was standing with the team of snipers, awaiting their orders as they checked their equipment. Jack O'Neill spread out a map of the interior as John rushed over to him. "So what do we know, sir?"

Jack sighed as he looked at him. "We evacuated all the employees to a conference room. Officer Marks and Ronan Dex have it covered."

"Then what do you need Marks for?" Mitchell quipped, but after the glare he got from John, he turned away.

"We'll take point inside the lobby and work our way in. You three take the service entrance. Remember," he reminded the group as a whole, "Kenmore is considered armed and dangerous, and is currently holding at least one hostage. Get the hostage away from Kenmore, and then take him down."

John grabbed the gun out of his holster and checked the magazine. He knew it wasn't going to happen the way O'Neill hoped it would. He replaced his weapon, then looked determinedly at Lorne and Mitchell. "All right. Let's move out."

They made their way through darkness to the ramp, pressing themselves against the descending wall leading to the basement door. A dark utility van was parked in front of the wide open entrance.

Guns drawn, the three detectives quickly edged their way inside the open doorway. It opened to a long, narrow dark passageway. Pipes above their heads ran the length of the corridor, and a few bright lights gave the corridor enough light to travel down without running into anything. They pulled out their flashlights, clearing the immediate area.

"Entering the lower aft service corridor," John spoke into his mic for the other search teams to hear.

"_We're stationed inside the main entrance. Radio as soon as you find something,"_ Jack O'Neill ordered through the ear piece.

"Understood."

"Sheppard," Cameron Mitchell whispered harshly, pointing his flashlight to the ground. "Blood trail."

Lorne took point as he quickly scoped the immediate area with his own flashlight. "No other signs of blood, just that."

"Well of course not."

John's blood boiled and froze at the same time as the sinister voice echoing through the metal hallway pierced his ears.

"Do you really think I'd be _that_ careless? I _did_ used to be a cop."

John finally managed to regain his faculties. He didn't think that hearing that damn voice again would throw him off kilter _this _much. "Kenmore, come out with your hands up. We have the building surrounded."

"'Surrounded'? Just for me? You _really_ pulled out all the stops this time, Sheppard," a sneering voice taunted as a large shadow stepped into the hallway ahead of them.

The shadow indeed turned out to be Michael Kenmore, pressing the muzzle of his gun to the cloth covered head of a woman.

Mitchell and Lorne exchanged glances. Tough they didn't voice it, John knew they were trying to figure out who it was. Unfortunately, the pair of running shoes on her feet were very familiar, and he knew without a doubt who it was.

_Elizabeth._

"Let her go, Michael," John ordered calmly as he leveled his gun at Kenmore's head.

Kenmore laughed, then repositioned the hostage in front of him. "Or what? You'll shoot both of us?"

"If I have to," John evenly replied, gritting his teeth.

Michael laughed in derision. "Oh, come on, John! You couldn't even shoot _me_ when you needed to."

"I didn't know you were about to try and kill me. You – we were partners, for crying out loud!" John said as he glowered, tightening the grip on his gun.

Michael hung his head and nodded. "Yeah. We were," he admitted, almost apologetically.

John wasn't fooled for an instant.

"But," Michael quickly replied, grinning as he lifted his head, fastening the hold he had around Elizabeth's waist, "people change! Suddenly, a cop's salary isn't enough anymore! And let me tell you, I was doing just fine … until _you_ walked in that room. Two _years_ of my life you stole from me, John Sheppard. And I fully intend on getting them back."

"I'd like to see you try," Cameron Mitchell retorted from John's left. "What makes you think you're even gonna make it out of here alive?"

Forcefully, Kenmore jabbed the gun into her temple, causing Elizabeth to yelp. He finally pulled the hood off, revealing her identity to the other detectives. Her clothes were still intact, which brought a sense of relief to John, but the nasty cut below her eye revealed that she had fought back.

_That's my girl_.

"Doctor Weir, you okay?" John called out cautiously, eyes still glaring at Kenmore.

She stayed silent until Kenmore nudged her with his shoulder. "Go ahead, sweetheart. Tell your man that you're doing _just_ fine."

She sighed and nodded at John. Her green eyes were bright with alarm and determination. "I'm all right, John," she softly said, nodding at him.

"Aww, isn't that sweet?" Kenmore jeered. "The detective … and the doctor. The crime fighting duo of the decade. And even better that they're sleeping with each other."

"Now _I'm_ ready to shoot him," Lorne grumbled.

John smirked. "He's just this charming when he's on the right side of the law."

"So what's it gonna be, John? Shoot me, or save the girl?"

His hazel eyes stared back intensely as he considered the possibilities. Not even a second of contemplation was wasted as he slowly put one foot in front of him. Then the other.

Kenmore grimaced sarcastically. "No, no, no, Johnny, that's not how this works. You don't get both."

"Yeah, well, neither do you."

Kenmore licked his lips, looking furtively around him, and began walking backwards. "We'll see about that."

"You're not going anywhere."

Kenmore grinned, backing up as John followed suit. Elizabeth tried to plant her feet on the ground, making it harder for her captor to pull her, but instead he forced her backwards even harder, almost dragging her feet across the concrete.

"I _will_ shoot you if you don't let her go," John promised, lining up the shot.

Michael chuckled. "And risk hurting Doctor Weir?"

John stepped forward again, but the disconcerting look that Elizabeth gave him threw him off. The determination in her eyes was quickly fading, immediately replaced by fear.

His eyes narrowed, the decision made. There was no turning back at this point.

Darkly, he replied, "I'm not aiming at her."

He fired a single shot. The impact shocked Kenmore, who cried out and released his grasp on Elizabeth as he fell backwards. The gun skidded like a stone on a pond before it stopped well out of his reach. As he clutched his wounded shoulder, Mitchell and Lorne rushed to stand over him, their guns trained on head and heart.

Elizabeth stumbled away from them, breathing heavily as she stared at the man in front of her, reaching for the radio. "Captain. Kenmore's down. We have Doctor Weir," he informed him, hazel eyes desperately locked onto hers.

"_Understood. Good work, Sheppard. I'm sending uniforms your way. We're still looking for Kendra Billings. We'll let you know when we find her."_

John took another step towards Elizabeth as she took long breaths to try and calm herself. Her green eyes were still wide with shock as she glanced slowly behind her.

"Sorry about that," he whispered. "I had to, uh…"

Elizabeth slowly nodded in understanding as her gaze came upon him once more.

"You okay?" he asked, reaching a hand out to her cheek.

Shaking her head, still trying to catch her breath, she simply and honestly replied, "No."

John tilted his head, eyes welling up with sympathy. He brought his other hand up to her face, holding her still as he barely nodded at her. "You will be. I promise."

He pulled her into a gentle hug, mindful of any hidden bruises that she might have, and she started to cry as she hid her face in his shoulder.

He rubbed her shoulder, then tilted his head towards the exit. "Come on," he whispered, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and leading her out.

A group of officers and medics passed them, heading to the gunshot victim laying in the corridor. As they exited, a doctor turned and looked at them. His grayish blue eyes widened.

"Elizabeth! You all right, lass?"

She sniffled, then smiled at his bedside manner. "Yes, Carson, I'm fine. Thank you."

"Then what about this abrasion right here?" Carson Beckett asked in his Scottish lilt, fingers touching just under the bruised cut on her face.

"It's nothing, I promise."

"Elizabeth, you stick to treating the dead, and I'll take care of the living. But really, you should let me take a look at that."

"I'm in shock, Carson. Give me a minute, okay?"

Carson nodded. "Aye, I'll do that. Now, Detective, let me go tend to the _thing _you shot, if you'll excuse me."

As he walked away, John's face started to fall and a sober realization came to him.

"What?" Elizabeth asked with a small frown, looking up at him.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"John. You were never good at keeping secrets from me."

He sighed, then stopped walking as her hand reached out and touched his arm. Her green eyes looked imploringly at him. "What?" she quietly asked.

John raised his eyebrows and exhaled through his mouth. "I just realized how close I was to hurting you."

She reached her other hand up to his cheek. "John …"

"No, just, give me a minute," he protested, but was quickly cut off by a voice through his ear.

"_Sheppard, come in?"_

He sighed, held up a finger to his ear and mouthed _O'Neill_.

"Captain?"

"_We found Kendra Billings. She was locked in a storage room near an emergency exit. She said to tell Elizabeth thanks."_

"Good to hear, sir."

"Did they find Kendra?" Elizabeth asked, raising her eyebrows.

John nodded, a smile tugging at his mouth. "Yep. She said to say thank you."

She tilted her head in thought, then nodded satisfactorily and began walking towards the ambulance.

"So what does she have to thank you for?" John asked, falling into step beside her, his fingers curling around hers.

Elizabeth had a bemused look on her face. "I don't know, to be honest. Maybe that I gave her hope. I told her there would be people looking for us, and they would find us."

Just then, the medics walked past with a sedated Michael Kenmore laying on the cart. Lorne and Mitchell followed behind them, then broke off and joined John and Elizabeth.

"Doctor Weir, glad to see you safe and sound," Lorne told her with a sincere smile.

As other officers and medics checked on her, John held her hand protectively. And Elizabeth noticed; as soon as she was done receiving a hug from Cadman her hand immediately wound around his again. A mutual content look passed between them, and John's mind began to drift to a subject that he had temporarily abandoned when all this insanity started.

The crowd began to lessen and Carson returned, adamant that Elizabeth allow him to stitch up her wound. She gave John an appreciative nod, telling him that she was fine and would be done in a moment.

He took advantage of the quiet and made a call to a man about a ring.

* * *

_One week later_

Dressed smartly in a dark lavender dress shirt and a nearly black suit, Rodney McKay gave himself a once over in the mirror as he finagled with his tie. For some reason, the knot seemed to be fighting against him today.

He grimaced. "Oh, come on," he ordered the tie as he threw his hands up.

Someone chuckled softly behind him. "Need some help, Doctor McKay?"

He turned, looking at the woman who had just entered the room. "Elizabeth. I didn't think you would be here today."

She shrugged. "I'm one of the star witnesses, Rodney. And even if I wasn't, I would be here for moral support."

Rodney nodded in understanding. "Well, at least most of his demons are gone now, eh?"

Elizabeth crossed her arms, tilting her head slightly. "Most of them," she replied. "But I, on the other hand, am still having a little trouble sleeping."

Rodney smirked. "Well, you shouldn't be. The DA has an airtight case against Kenmore. He won't be getting out any time soon. Not if I can help it."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "That almost sounded ... caring."

"Yeah, well, don't read into it too much," he curtly responded, turning back to the mirror and returning to his original problem.

He glanced at Elizabeth in the mirror as his hands resumed their previous movement. She was wearing a smart black suit with a pattern of thin grey stripes. The sleeves only descended partway down her forearms, and the hem of the skirt was just below her knees. A dark red blouse and small heels completed the outfit. Repressing a smirk, he thought about how intimidating she would look when she entered the courtroom, her usual warm expression replaced with a stern glare.

It almost made _him _nervous.

Finally, he sighed and turned around. "It's not cooperating," he admitted, knowing that she would understand the statement to be, not a defeat, but a silent request for help.

She chuckled and stepped over in front of him. "You look very nice today," she commented as her agile fingers made swift work of his tie. She patted the dark pattern, then stepped back.

Rodney looked in the mirror once more and chuckled. "I do, don't I?" he agreed smugly.

There was a knock on the door. "You ready to go?" John Sheppard asked as he stepped through the open doorway.

Rodney glanced at Elizabeth, then back to Sheppard. "Yeah, we're all set. Just let me go grab my tablet."

As he excused himself out of the room and made his way a few paces down the corridor, he paused and looked back.

Elizabeth was fixing John's tie as he ran a hand through his hair, which she playfully swatted away with a small smile. They held each other's gaze, and when John mouthed something that looked like "Come here," she stepped into his embrace and wrapped her arms around his back. His arms went around her slim shoulders as he rested her head against hers. He closed his eyes as he heaved a sigh, looking content - and complete - in her arms.

With a wistful smile, Rodney slowly turned and continued walking down the hallway.

* * *

The epilogue is the last installment in this story! Thank you for reading!


	23. Arraignment and a Run

**Author's Notes:** So I know at the end of the previous chapter that I said this was the epilogue … The fic bunnies told me I was wrong. One last curve ball to throw at you!

Thank you for your continued support, and I hope you enjoy as we start to wrap up!

* * *

The atmosphere in the courtroom during the arraignment was tense. Between Michael Kenmore standing there, claiming innocence while a good half of the Metro Police Department sat behind them glaring at the defendant, it didn't take much to make Lindsey Novak start hiccupping.

With a barely audible "Excuse me", she swallowed a gulp of water as the judge nodded understandingly at her.

She placed the glass back on the table and George Hammond nodded at her from his seat. "Counselor, let's talk about bail," he kindly ordered.

Novak cleared her throat, nodding apprehensively as her eyes quickly darted behind her. For a case with this much publicity and recognition, she didn't know why she had been assigned to it, instead of the executive ADA. The pressure riding on this had set off her nervous habit of hiccups before she had even gotten to the courtroom.

She sighed, then noticed a determined pair of hazel eyes staring intently back at her.

Detective John Sheppard sat at the end of the second row back, arms firmly crossed as he nodded at her. Next to him, Dr. Elizabeth Weir watched the interaction and rested a reassuring hand on his upper arm. He smiled sideways at her, then returned Novak's hesitant stare with a reaffirmed confidence.

She turned back to face Hammond on the bench. "The people ask for remand, your Honor. Not only is the defendant being charged with several violent crimes, but he also possesses a considerable amount of assets which make him a huge flight risk."

"Your Honor," the defense attorney spoke up, tilting the glasses on his nose, "my client has been an upstanding member of the community-"

Hammond held up a hand, cutting him off abruptly. "Excuse me, but your client just got out of a maximum security prison eighteen months ago. I fail to see how that classifies him as 'upstanding'."

As the defense attorney pulled his foot out of his mouth, the judge nodded at Novak. "I agree with the People's argument, both for the safety of the community and of the defendant himself," directing a stern look at the police that were gathered in the courtroom. "Defendant is remanded without bail," he announced, and the crack of the gavel against the wood made Novak heave a sigh of relief.

Quickly packing up her bag, she made her way out to the lobby where the rest of the detectives and doctors had gathered. Besides Sheppard and Dr. Weir, the group was comprised of Dr. McKay, Captain O'Neill and Dr. Carter, and Detective Lorne.

She smiled nervously as she approached them. "Detectives. Doctors. Sir."

Jack O'Neill nodded at her. "Nice job, Counselor."

She shook her head in agreement. "Yeah," she muttered.

Elizabeth gave her a empathetic smile, reaching out to grasp her hand. "You certainly got over your hiccups rather quickly."

Novak smiled, directing a sheepish look at John. "I guessed I realized just how much was at stake."

Sheppard shifted on his feet uncertainly. "So what happens now?" he asked, inserting his hands into the pants pockets of his suit as he raised an eyebrow.

"Well, he's been remanded and the chances of him miraculously getting out are slim to none. They'll set a trial date, which I have a feeling will be expedited due to the situation," she muttered unhappily, knowing that she would be the face of the People during all of this. "I start gathering all my evidence and getting witnesses in order. And then we put him away."

Weir smiled curiously as Novak realized just how bold she had sounded with that last statement. "You think we'll win?"

She gritted her teeth as she nodded. "The evidence is overwhelming. With four kidnappings and two murders, not even mentioning the lesser charges, it's pretty much open and shut. Let's just hope all goes well."

Just then, Officer Marks walked up to the group. "Counselor Novak?"

"Yes?"

Marks shot her a look of sympathy. "The press is out on the steps, awaiting your statement."

Novak glowered, then nodded in acceptance. "All right. Let's get this over with."

* * *

John slowly sighed as Novak walked with Officer Marks to the front doors. The last time these events had transpired, he had still been in the ICU but he keenly felt the stress all the same. It didn't worry him as much this time; Novak's words had served their purpose of reassuring him, and though it helped, he still couldn't ignore the gnawing feeling in his gut that this wasn't completely over.

Somberly, Jack O'Neill turned to face his detectives. "You know I'm not a man of … too many words, but you did a good job, John."

"Thank you, sir," Sheppard replied with a hint of surprise.

"You too, Lorne," Jack added, turning his brown eyes to regard the junior partner. "I know I was apprehensive about pairing you together, but you're one of the best partnerships I've ever had under my command. Keep it up."

Evan's light blue eyes twinkled slightly as he nodded. "Yes, sir."

Jack smiled, satisfied, and turned to face his wife. "Whatdya say we go home, Carter?"

"Sounds good to me." They nodded their farewells to the group, and walked to the side door that led to the parking garage.

As soon as they were out of sight, John turned to the remainder of the small crowd. "Anybody up for dinner?"

"Sounds great! But I have plans," McKay announced.

"With the good doctor?" Elizabeth asked with a sly smile.

John raised his eyebrows, feigning confusion. "Keller or Beckett?"

"Oh, don't even bring _that_ up!"

It elicited a laugh from everyone except McKay. The memory was unforgettable. When they had all first met a couple of years ago, McKay was a little desperate for female companionship, so much so that he was resorting to skimming through the singles ads in a newspaper. Once John discovered this, he tricked McKay by placing an ad of his own, but instead of a beautiful, tall, leggy blonde, the Canadian pathologist ended up at a table with a Scottish medical doctor.

Carson had enjoyed it all in good fun, but Rodney moaned and complained the entire night. And the week following.

They walked out to the parking garage, waving at Jack and Sam as they drove out in her Volvo. Rodney walked over to his car, a small Toyota Echo, and the others approached the Dodge Charger.

He heard Elizabeth ask them, "So, what are you feeling like? Chinese, Thai, burgers?"

Lorne replied with a chuckle, but John didn't really hear what was said. The feeling that there was something else to this case was starting to overwhelm him, and it was making him sick to his stomach. He suddenly leaned over, placing his hands firmly against the roof of the car.

"John? Are you all right?" Elizabeth asked, placing a worried hand on his shoulder as she came to stand next to him.

He nodded, an uncertain expression clouding his face. "Yeah, yeah. I'm just … I'm not really hungry, to be honest. Maybe call up Cadman, see if she wants to join you," he suggested.

Lorne frowned at his partner. "You sure you're okay?"

John looked up, nodding. "Yeah, I'm fine. I think I'm just a little - overwhelmed, I guess - after everything. I'll probably just head home, get some sleep."

"You could use it," Elizabeth replied knowingly.

He chuckled at her, then groaned as he pushed himself upright again. "All right. I'll see you later, then?" he asked her quietly, eyes darkening as they latched onto hers.

"Yeah, I'll come over when we're done," she replied, pressing a chaste kiss to his lips.

As they pulled back, John smirked. Out of the corner of his eye, he had noticed Lorne abruptly turning away, messing with his Droid, presumably to call Cadman.

"Okay, I'll see you."

As he opened his car door, he heard Elizabeth call out to his partner. "We can take my car," she told him, then proceeded to steal his phone away and talk to Laura.

John squinted in the rear view mirror, laughed, and then drove slowly out of the parking garage.

He assumed that the gut wrenching worry would dissipate the further he got from the courthouse. It kept getting stronger, however, and eventually John got paranoid.

About ten minutes away from his apartment, he noticed a tan sedan that seemed to mimic every move he made, turning into the same streets, merging into the same lanes, albeit from a good six car lengths back. When it followed him onto the highway on ramp, he groaned. He started to merge over and, seeing that the three lanes were amazingly devoid of traffic, hit the gas a little harder than normal and got into the far left lane.

When he looked up and noticed the tan car sitting in the right lane, he sighed and groaned inwardly at himself. _Really, Sheppard? McKay's the conspiracy nut, not you_, he berated himself.

Even after he got off on his exit and parked in the parallel space in front of his building doors, the suspicion that he was being followed didn't go away. He didn't see the car anywhere, but with the afternoon traffic starting to build it would be easy to blend in.

He entered his apartment, quickly changed clothes, and within five minutes he was sitting on the front step, clad entirely in black, save for the blue and grey running shoes on his feet. He double knotted the white laces, then stood up and pulled the thin, black sweatshirt over his head.

Sliding the phone into the case on his arm, he put the ear buds in and glanced up, surveying the immediate area. Still nothing. The feeling wasn't as powerful as it had been, but being ever vigilant he kept raising his eyes every few seconds, looking for anything strange.

He put on his aviator sunglasses, discreetly glancing around one last time. Besides the neighbor who ran with her Chihuahua, dragging the wimpy animal behind her, nothing peculiar at all.

He started the music as he stretched. The play list he had compiled specifically for running was mostly Johnny Cash, with a few other artists thrown in for variety. As he finished warming up and started his run down the sidewalk, the first song, a slow pop song by someone he didn't really recognize, ended and the next one started.

John smiled and mouthed the words to "Solitary Man" as he ran down the length of the block. His normal jog would take him in a circle around his neighborhood, sprinting around the residential blocks until he winded up back at his front door. Altogether, it measured about three miles.

After a few minutes, the music started to drown out the doubts running rampant through his mind. Kenmore was in jail, the trial would start soon, and he didn't have anything to worry about anymore. Elizabeth was safe, and the ring that he had begged his brother for was resting safely at home in the safe that not even she knew about.

He had made up his mind quite awhile ago, but with all the chaos that ensued after her abduction the issue of the right time and place had receded to the back of his mind. When she was sitting in the back of the ambulance, getting her cut stitched up by Carson, John had managed to sneak away for a moment and call his brother. The death of his father left Dave the executor of the rather massive estate in the Sheppard family's name, and John had been more than happy to let him do it. They hadn't regularly kept in touch before Patrick died, but they started mending the broken bridges afterwards and Dave and John were almost back to the point in their relationship where they could be open and frank with each other.

John grinned briefly, remembering the look on Dave's face when he had announced his intention to marry Elizabeth. It was a mix of shock, delight, and a few other emotions that reduced his brother to a stuttering mess before unexpectedly gripping John in a tight hug.

He almost forgot what was going on, and time stopped for a moment as the two brothers silently made their peace with each other. Then John cleared his throat and smiled, politely asking for the ring box in his brother's suit pocket.

Once his sister-in-law found out, she smiled serenely at John, giving him a hug and smacking her husband on the arm as he slowly picked his jaw up off the floor. For Dave being as serious and business-minded as he was, he was amazed that Phoebe Sheppard would be so caring and down-to-Earth. _I guess opposites do attract_, John reflected with a tilt of his head. Phoebe and Elizabeth had gotten along great on the few occasions that they had met, and she told John that she couldn't think of a better match. With a swift kiss on his cheek and a knowing smile at her husband, she left the two brothers in the room.

John nodded at him, with a goofy smile starting to grace his mouth, and told him that yes, he was serious and no, she wasn't pregnant.

After a Scotch in Dave's library, John left with the ring securely resting in his hand and a grin on his face.

He reached a hand up and wiped the sweat off his brow as he rounded the last block, his apartment steps starting to come into view. One of the ear buds fell out, dangling by the wire and lightly slapping John across his chest as he ran the last few steps. The distraction took him out of the zone, changing his focus as he quickly scanned the area.

A gold Mitsubishi was parked across the street, almost parallel to his Charger.

John's eyes narrowed as he recognized the car from before. He cursed silently, realizing that his service weapon was upstairs. He slowed to a trot, walking to the front steps, stomach clenched in knots again.

The figure sitting on the steps smiled at him. "Detective Sheppard," he announced slowly, his tone menacing as he held a nine mil in his right hand.

John wanted to smack himself as the last piece of the puzzle fell into place. It wasn't who he had expected all along, but seeing the young man slouching on the steps, everything made sense.

"Ford."

* * *

**A/N:**So who saw that coming? I didn't until the fic bunnies got back from vacation! One more chapter and we're done!

In the final installment: how does John get out of this one? And will he be able to propose?


	24. Ends With a Bang

Thank you so much for reading and sharing your thoughts with me! Getting a review is the highlight of my day!

This is the last chapter, with an epilogue to follow.

Enjoy!

* * *

As Ford slowly stood, ever so casually, John held his hands in front of him cautiously, knowing full well that there wasn't much that he could do in this situation. Not without his gun, at least. He had only been going for a run around his block. It wasn't like he was expecting to come back to his apartment and face an armed assailant.

_Sucks to be me right now_, he sourly thought as his attention snapped back to Ford upon hearing the unsettling sound of the gun safety clicking off.

"I should've known," John slowly acknowledged, dropping his hands to his sides as Ford loosely aimed at his head. "There isn't anyone connected to Kenmore who's actually innocent."

"You got that right," Ford replied sharply.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to tell that the young man wasn't playing games. So John decided to play one of his own. "So what does Kenmore have on you?" he slowly asked. "Why's he making you do this?"

Ford smirked. "_He's_ not making me do anything. _You_ are."

John frowned. "What the hell are you talking about, Ford? _I'm_ not the one telling you to point a gun at my head!"

"Idle hands don't get anything done," Ford taunted strangely. "Didn't you ever wonder how Kenmore was able to start a successful company so soon after getting out?"

John scratched the back of his head, throwing an annoyed glare at Ford. "Honestly, it wasn't on my list for twenty questions."

"_Think_, Sheppard," Ford ordered sternly, holding the gun firmly. "_Think_."

All the puzzle pieces that John knew about Kenmore quickly flew past his eyes as he tried his best to figure out what Ford was insinuating. Michael Kenmore came from a rich family, and his parents separated when he was twelve. He went to a college prep school, then the police academy, but there was nothing that he could think of that would be the answer to the riddle.

He gritted his teeth as the memories became more recent, and Ford's glare hardened even further. The dread that he felt as he relived the moment he was sabotaged flooded over him, and just as quickly as it had appeared it vanished. The next flash was the scornful words that Kenmore had uttered as he held Elizabeth hostage in that service corridor.

"_A cop's salary isn't enough anymore! And let me tell you, I was doing just fine … until _you_ walked in that room."_

Kenmore was dealing drugs. He was getting product from suspects and then turning them loose. John recalled that much from the trial, after which all official record of his attempted murder got wiped away without a trace.

"Kenmore was dealing drugs," John said, more of a question than an answer.

Ford smiled. "Tell me something I _don't_ know. C'mon, Sheppard, you could've been Mensa."

John frowned, wondering how the young man possessed that knowledge, when suddenly, the light bulb exploded. His head shot up, eyes wide as the realization hit him.

"Kenmore's your dealer."

Ford nodded smugly. "Very good, _Detective_."

"So I put away your drug dealer. Go find another one! Or better yet," John reflected, "stop using."

"Oh, but it's not that simple," Ford replied with a sigh as he lowered his gun, but only slightly. Not enough for John to take him. "See, when Michael went in the first time, he still had resources on the outside. People were still getting what they needed, mostly due to me. I was the one keeping the light on while he was in, and for my loyalty I was getting a nice little cut. And then, one little _stupid_ mistake on his part, and everything's gone."

"If you wanna rob me, go for it. I don't see how shooting me is gonna make things any easier for you."

Ford sneered at him, face hardening as he raised his gun again. John was immediately wishing he wasn't so good at making an already tense situation worse.

"You money doesn't matter," Ford replied simply, aiming at John's chest. "I'm just finishing the job."

"Drop your gun!"

The shout came too late. John heard an exceptionally loud pop as the bullet impacted him, his left arm burning as he twisted and dropped to the ground. His head hit the pavement, and his vision moved in and out of focus as he saw a figure with long hair, holding a weapon and aiming it at Ford, who was now lying in a similar position on the sidewalk. The only difference was the blood flowing from the chest wound.

As John realized that she must have shot Ford at the same time he pulled the trigger, a familiar whirl of brown and red knelt next to him, cupping his face in her small, comforting hands. "John!"

"Yeah, that's me," he slowly mumbled, blinking as he willed his vision to clear.

It brought a small smile to her lips as the other woman squatted down next to him. "Sheppard! You okay?"

"Arm," he grumbled, clutching at it just above the elbow. As the blurriness began to clear, the pain in his arm became more pronounced and he grimaced as someone examined the wound. He let out a hiss, then relaxed his body against the pavement. "Call an ambulance," he muttered as the woman in red took her black scarf off, wrapping it around his upper arm.

Before she had even reached for her phone, a police siren started blaring around the corner and the squad car pulled up on the pavement next to them. John gave the shooter a stunned glare. "How did you know?" he asked, his green eyes widened in astonishment.

"We didn't," Laura Cadman replied as she pressed her hands against the gunshot wound in his arm. "Elizabeth and I had to park around the block. I saw him as I walked up."

"Who was he?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.

"Aiden Ford," John gritted through his teeth, trying to hold the pain in. "He was working for Kenmore the entire time. Even back when I got shot the _first_ time."

The ambulance pulled up behind the cop car. John slowly craned his head up, looking at his arm. "How bad do you think it is?" he wondered, looking at Elizabeth.

She let out a sigh and looked worriedly at him. "I don't know."

For some reason, the next thought that went through his head was _I better not be dying._

* * *

"He's going to be fine."

Carson's reassuring words made Elizabeth raise her head. She had spent the past half hour sitting in the waiting room at the hospital, elbows propped up on her knees as she rested her forehead in the palms of her hands. Laura had offered to sit with her, but Elizabeth kindly declined, assuring her that she would be fine and reminding her that there was another victim coming in behind him.

She was worried professionally and personally. John's wound had been bleeding a lot; without moving the arm or removing his hoodie, she couldn't tell for sure how deep the bullet was. What had her worried the most was that his head had fallen like a boulder onto the gurney the instant the ambulance doors had closed.

When she and Laura finally got to the hospital, no one could tell her anything, even with her flashing her credentials. Finally, a sympathetic nurse told her that Carson Beckett was the attending doctor, and it helped to alleviate her worries.

But only a little.

She stood up and ran her hands over her skirt, trying to smooth out the wrinkles. "How is he?" she asked, clearing her throat nervously.

Carson tilted his head, giving her one of his patented smiles. "He's fine. I gotta say, I was a wee bit concerned by the blood loss, but all in all, he'll recover just fine."

Elizabeth frowned at him, then chuckled in confusion. "Well, of course there would be blood loss. He got shot, after all."

Carson raised his eyebrows, his grey eyes brightening. "No, Elizabeth. The bullet only grazed his skin. He just needs some stitches. Marie is almost done."

Slowly, she closed her eyes and sighed in relief as she hung her head. "Thank you, Carson. That's – that's good to hear."

"You're welcome." He started to turn around but stopped himself. "Would you like to see him?"

Elizabeth raised her head and smiled. "Yes, I would. Thanks."

They wandered through the maze of hallways that, even though she knew John was all right, seemed to never end and the worry began to slowly build again in the pit of her stomach. After passing a million rooms, she turned a corner and her eyes finally found their sanctuary once again in John's green eyes. She heaved a visible sigh of relief as he nodded at her, a slight smile on his lips.

Elizabeth stepped inside the room and stood across from where he sat on the bed. His shirt was probably in an evidence bag someplace, and his legs were hanging over the edge as Marie finished stitching the wound on his arm. Jack O'Neill and Evan Lorne were standing inside the room as well, taking John's report about the shooting. As they looked up and saw Beckett and Elizabeth enter, John cleared his throat. "Anything else?" he asked politely.

She couldn't help but try to repress a smirk. Even though the tone was civil, the subtext was blindingly evident to her. _We're done. Get out of here_.

Jack nodded, first to John, then at her. "Elizabeth. Keep an eye on him."

"I always do," she replied, more to John than to the captain as their eyes met again. The captain and Lorne quietly excused themselves, but she almost didn't notice with the silent information exchange that was happening between their eyes. It mainly consisted of recognized gazes and stares of _Are you okay?_ and _I'm fine_ and _I love you_, but for the time being, it was enough.

John cleared his throat again and glanced around the room at the sudden silence. "I'm fine, by the way," he quickly inserted, restarting the conversation. "Thanks for asking."

Elizabeth chuckled, then crossed her arms. They would deal with the personal pleasantries later. "What happened?"

John shrugged his good shoulder. "I went for a run. When I got back, Ford was standing outside my building, waving a gun."

"What did he want?"

"To kill me." He gave her an innocent look. "That's normally what people want to do with guns."

Elizabeth shook her head with a glimmer of a smile. At least John didn't have a concussion; otherwise, he wouldn't have been joking around this much. "What did Ford have against you? I thought he was letting Shawn Walston crash at his place for a few weeks."

"Kenmore has been supplying Ford with drugs. Maybe he and Walston met while they both served, maybe the story was concocted by Kenmore to distract us. Whatever the case is, Ford has known what's going on from the start. The first time Kenmore went in the slammer, Ford kept his business running. But this time, there's no money, everything's been frozen. So he decided to finish the job for Kenmore. So I got shot." He chuckled. "_Again_. I'm getting pretty good at this."

"John…"

He looked up at Elizabeth and nodded slowly. "I know." He glanced down the hallway with a pang of regret. "Ford is a good kid who got mixed up in the wrong crap. If he hadn't gotten hooked on drugs, this wouldn't have happened."

"You're not mad at him?" Elizabeth asked, confused.

He shook his head. "Plus, knowing the sneaky bastard that Kenmore is, I bet those drugs are a little stronger than what's out on the street. He always had a knack for chemistry, if you know what I mean."

Elizabeth began to see where John was going with this. "We'll get a sample and have Rodney test it. If we can prove that Kenmore was deliberately addicting Ford, making him his puppet, maybe the DA can reduce the charges."

John nodded his head in agreement. "Sounds good." Quickly glancing up at Carson, he added, "So how long till I get to go home?"

"John, this isn't a scratch. It's a bloody bullet graze!" Carson quickly protested. "You're lucky it didn't shatter your humerus!"

"Because _that_ wouldn't have been humorous," John deadpanned.

Carson was ready to retort until Elizabeth held up a hand in between them. "Gentlemen, let's focus on the matter at hand. John, do what Carson tells you do and _don't_ give him any grief. Carson, try not to kill John."

The men looked at each other and nodded. "Agreed." "Fine."

She turned to quickly look at Carson. "Give us a minute, will you?"

Carson vacated the exam room, closing the door behind him.

Elizabeth stepped up to the bed, standing in between John's knees as his right arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. "You okay?" he asked in that soft voice he saved just for her.

"I'm fine," she replied, reaching up with her hands to hold his face as her eyes held his gaze. "But this habit we have of getting into trouble, being held hostage, getting shot?" She placed a small kiss on the tip of his nose. "It needs to stop."

"I agree," John replied with a smile, returning the kiss with one of his own to her lips.

She enjoyed the security that she felt in his arms. Hell, she could just be standing in the same room as him and she knew that as long as he had a say in it, no harm would come to her. It was a valuable facet of their relationship, and she never took it for granted. He didn't have to do that - hover protectively during meetings, bring her dinner, check on her in the morning before he even went on his run - but it just made her love him more.

He pulled back with a slight grimace as they examined his arm. "How's your arm?" she asked, bringing her arms down and resting her hands on his thighs.

"Whatever they gave me is a miracle. It doesn't hurt nearly as bad." John stretched his free arm in the air. "Doc said it'd be in a sling for a few weeks, just to make sure the cut doesn't get infected."

"'Cut'? John, you can't keep making this out to be something trivial. Need I remind you, you were shot?"

John's glare quickly turned to his puppy eyes, which never failed to make Elizabeth weak at the knees.

She laughed. "Carson knows what he's doing. Listen to him."

"Yeah, I know."

She bit her lip, then asked the question that had been at the tip of her tongue the entire time. "How did the police get there so fast?"

"Apparently, an older lady who lives in the apartment building saw Ford park outside and get out with a gun. First thing she did was check my apartment, but I was gone, so she called the police and hid in her bathroom."

"You have good neighbors," was all she could think to reply as she fell silent in front of him.

With a small smile, his hands slowly wound around hers, maneuvering the fingers to spread out, clenching her fingers with his. They both stared at their hands for a moment, until they heard a knock on the door.

John sighed, leaning his forehead against Elizabeth's. "Just a sec," he called out, leaning in to place another kiss on her lips.

She slowly responded, then slowly backed away. "They're not going to go away if you ignore them, you know."

John moaned. "Gimme a minute to wrap things up here, 'kay?"

She nodded. "Okay. I'll be in the waiting room."

She opened the door to Carson standing patiently outside, who smiled kindly at her as she walked back the way she came. Or, at least, she _thought_ it was the way she came. This part of the hospital was a more recent addition, and given her line of work, she didn't spend much time in the hospital anyway. Every corridor, every hallway that branched out looked just like the last one. She considered stopping one of the nurses, but decided against it, certain that she would find her way out sometime soon.

After yet another curve in the hallway, she came upon a room with two officers standing outside. She nodded at Marks and glanced inside as she continued to walk past.

Aiden Ford was lying motionlessly in the bed, a nasal cannula supplying air from the oxygen machine as the heartbeat monitor quietly beeped every few seconds. Her feet stopped outside the window as she took another look at him. Some might feel anger or repugnance, but strangely, Elizabeth felt pity for him. The only reason that he had ended up in the earlier situation was because of his addiction that Kenmore had used to control him. If his life had been different, if he hadn't tried drugs just one time, he wouldn't be lying here in a hospital bed, holding on to what was left of his life by a thread.

_Maybe that's what our work is all about_, Elizabeth reflected to herself. Ford could turn his life around. Even with the tragic turn of events, he had the opportunity to do so. _If _he wanted to.

"He's only twenty-six," John spoke from behind her.

She crossed her arms and turned around. John had apparently gotten another black shirt from the staff, and his left arm now lay in a blue sling. "He's got his whole life ahead of him," he continued. "He could do so much better than this."

Elizabeth cocked her head. "Maybe he will, after all of this is said and done."

John pressed his lips together. "Yeah," he replied wistfully, taking one last look at the young man laying almost lifelessly in the bed.

Elizabeth unfolded her arms and slipped one around his shoulder. "You ready to go?"

He nodded. "Yeah. Let's go home."

* * *

Next: Epilogue!

Squee! Thank you for reading!


	25. Epilogue

**Author's Note:** It's finally here! The final installment of this story, which has taken me 18 months to write, is done. Writing this story in the first place was a departure for me, but I enjoyed writing an AU.

Enjoy reading, and feel free to leave a review!

* * *

_Friday afternoon. 4:30pm._

Elizabeth peeled off the scrubs as she and Rodney stepped out of the autopsy room. She was relieved that, for once, the body laying on the slab had died of natural causes instead of being hideously murdered or something along those lines. Death had become an all too natural part of her life, and a piece of her heart still broke every time that she saw Teyla escorting a family into a conference room to gently break the news to them, but sometimes it was comforting to know that the loss was expected. A person having their life suddenly cut short due to the ignorant or criminal actions of others was unnatural.

It was the reason she worked overtime when the police were involved. The families needed closure, and she always gave 110% to ensure that they would get it.

"Well, I never thought I'd say this, but that was the high point of my day," Rodney said as he pulled his foot back from the hamper, forcing the lid to shut.

Elizabeth gave a faint smile. His workload had increased exponentially in the past few weeks, especially after Kenmore's hidden drug lab was discovered in the basement of his office complex. _That _had made the DEA very happy, but it had also resulted in Rodney having to run a very specific analysis on the products. Kenmore had altered the chemical makeup, making it even more addictive as he introduced a previously unknown component. It had take almost a full week to determine its identity, and Elizabeth still shuddered when she saw the "eureka" look fall off of Rodney's face. It made whoever was using extremely susceptible to carrying out ideas, literally putting anyone under Kenmore's twisted control. Aiden Ford, being under constant guard for the last eight days in the hospital, was already being weaned off of it, but some residual wrath remained any time John Sheppard walked in the room.

John had worn the sling for almost a week before the complaining about how unnecessary it was really started to grate. Finally, Carson gave him the okay to get rid of it and John replied by throwing the sling and a grin at him. His bandage had to be checked daily to ensure there was no infection or complications, which Elizabeth accepted without complaint. It was good for her to work on her bedside manner with living patients; her normal clientele was unhelpful in that regard.

Woolsey had quietly bowed out, bestowing the temporary responsibilities of Chief Medical Examiner on Elizabeth with a humbled smile. He acknowledged that his place was in the bureaucracy and perhaps he could be an advocate for their department if they ever needed a friend. So they parted on friendly terms and Elizabeth's headaches recurred more often.

There was a rumor spreading that Sam Carter wouldn't be returning from maternity leave, which led to an inter office betting pool as to the new Chief ME. Although Sam still had two months of maternity leave left before her scheduled return, the text messages and the Skype video calls she made to the office every few weeks didn't give off the vibe of an early retirement. Rather, she missed her extended family and kept in touch, knowing that her time and energy right now was entirely devoted to her daughter. The time would pass quickly, and all of a sudden she would be dropping Mandy off at daycare instead of spending every waking hour with her.

Jack had his hands full as well, but he was one of the most concerned, attentive men that Elizabeth had ever met. After John's shooting, he had no choice but to put him on desk duty for a few days. Despite the grimace that John had given him, the captain had firmly gritted his teeth while reminding the detective that out of every officer in the department, he took the gold metal when it came to gunshot wounds. John retreated from his office with a nod of resignation and went to sit at his desk, skewering the pile of paperwork with a vicious glare. It had made Elizabeth laugh as she brought him a turkey sandwich.

Beside her, Rodney gave a short nod, bringing her back to the present as he withdrew to his office. Elizabeth looked after him thoughtfully as he disappeared around the corner, then smiled and turned towards her own office. The scientist was still as arrogant and condescending as the day she had met him, but the presence of a certain blonde medical doctor tempered it, making him almost giddy. She admitted that when they first started dating, she had given the relationship between Rodney and Jennifer a quizzical raised eyebrow. He had to be ten years older than her, at least, and by all accounts it would seem that they didn't have anything in common, and if they did, certainly not enough to build a relationship on. But Rodney was never one to care much about what other people thought, Elizabeth reflected with a chuckle.

She walked into her office and shut the door behind her, intent on finishing the never ending stack of paperwork before her weekend began. Her Blackberry was laying on her desk, vibrating with a text message notification. Momentarily ignoring the folders, she reached for her phone.

_So it seems I have the weekend off. Dinner and a movie tonight, then sleeping in with you tomorrow. And Sedge too, I guess. ;) Love you. _

Elizabeth allowed a small smile as she quickly typed a reply, then sat down at her desk with renewed zeal. This pile would disappear shortly, and if anyone tried to rebuild it, they could kiss her ass on her way out of the building.

* * *

John let out a quiet grimace as he reached across his desk, shutting the light off. His arm was still sore from the gunshot wound, and all the exertion he had forced upon himself over the past couple of days served to remind him that he wasn't as young as he used to be.

Across the way, his partner gave him a concerned look. "You okay?"

"Yep, I'm good," John replied as he landed back in his seat, the chair bouncing slightly from the hard landing. "So, any plans for the evening?" he asked as he propped his feet up on the edge of his desk.

Evan Lorne shook his head. "I was gonna go to my parents for dinner, but my dad surprised my mom with a weekend trip up to New York. So I'm gonna head home, make dinner for myself, and pass out on the couch."

John frowned. "No Cadman?"

Lorne shook his head as he loosened his tie. "She's working third shift tonight."

Sheppard nodded in acknowledgement as his eyes began to wander, eventually staring at an obscure poster on the other side of the squad room. His outward appearance gave no indication of the smug sense of satisfaction he felt inwardly, knowing that this weekend was going to be the best one of his life, but at the same time an unknown worry began to creep up on him.

"… 'bout you?"

John ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry, what'd you say?"

Lorne smirked. "I asked, 'what about you', but I think I already know the answer to that one."

He smiled, raising an eyebrow and quickly lowering it. "Have a good weekend, Evan."

"You too, John," he replied, then picked up his coat and walked to the doors, jingling his keys in his hand.

John craned his neck, making sure the doors had closed behind him, before he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out the box he'd been carrying around with him. There was no elaborate plan that he had concocted; rather, he had been waiting on the right moment to arrive. Ergo, the reason why he had put the ring on his person instead of leaving it at home.

A door closed behind him, and he turned around to face his captain. "So. Big plans for the weekend?" Jack O'Neill asked wryly, giving the box in John's hand a quick glance.

He inhaled sharply. "Yes, sir," he replied, quickly placing the ring back in his pocket.

"You nervous?"

John frowned. "Why would I be nervous? Sir," he tacked on as a precaution.

Jack sighed, pulling a chair over and sitting down. "It's normal, don't worry. When we get down on our knee," he told him, scooting forward in the chair like it was a big secret, "or however you do it, we're leaving our safety zone. Our guard is down. Our confidence can be crushed with just one word."

"Not if we're sure that she'll say yes," John retorted, raising his hazel eyes to meet the soft brown eyes of his boss.

"_Are_ you sure?" Jack asked, leaning back in his seat.

John let the doubt pass through his mind for less than a second before he nodded, kicking it out. "I love her," he replied simply, rubbing the palms of his hands together. "Just knowing she's in this world makes me want to be a better person. Being with her, I _am_."

Jack smiled, then stood. "I know you are, John. Believe me, if I'd known she would've changed you the way she did, I would've introduced you a long time ago." He extended his hand to the detective, who hesitated a moment before firmly shaking it. "Good luck."

* * *

Jack sighed as he gently slammed his truck into park outside of the garage. The porch light was still on, and a few more cars than normal parked around him alerted him to the presence of visitors at his house tonight. It seemed that ever since their daughter was born, he and Sam had barely had a moment of peace to themselves.

With everything that had transpired over the last two weeks, however, he was grateful to just be home.

He didn't advertise how smart he really was. At least, not all the time. So when Ford turned out to be working for Kenmore the entire time he was incarcerated, Jack knew that there was more to the story. How the hell had Kenmore's conviction even been removed from public record? He had shot a cop, for crying out loud! The police captain's eyebrows had furrowed until he finally got the explanation he had been looking for: Robert Kinsey.

Between his detectives doing some of the best work he had ever witnessed and the extra help of Ronan Dex, they had come to find out that Kinsey had acted as a father figure for Kenmore after his parents split. He corrupted the young man from an early age to be as cynical and psychotic as he was. Whenever someone had a grudge, he always found a way to use it to his advantage. Kinsey was the elephant in the room that had prevented him and Carter from being together.

Jack smirked as he closed his truck door, pressing the lock button on his key. The time when everything had come to a head was shortly before Jacob Carter had died. Kinsey had to drop by the station and point out that Jack's time card was erratic, taking off early, coming in late. So the obvious answer, of course, was that he was sleeping with Carter and it was disrupting his work.

Jack could barely swallow back his contempt for the man as he curtly replied that Jacob Carter was his predecessor, and that the idea that he would sleep with Carter, much less during the week that her father was in hospice, was ludicrous.

He refrained from telling him that Sam had fallen asleep on his shoulder the night before at the hospital. He didn't think it would help anything.

As he reflected, Jack decided that maybe he had enjoyed it a little too much when he and Novak had marched into his office with a warrant to search his computer, offices, and home.

Kinsey had been the top dog on Kenmore's food chain. He was the one who had ensured that he still had product to sell, and that he had someone ready to take the fall if need be. He had made a dirty deal with a judge and gotten him to quietly remove the conviction from Kenmore's record. If anyone in the department brought it up, he used his threats to silence them. He took advantage of Kenmore's resentment of Sheppard, Kavanaugh's authority issues, and even Caldwell's grudge and tried to make it work to his benefit. At least Caldwell had gotten his head screwed on straight.

As Kinsey was led out of his office in handcuffs, with two officers following him, Jack allowed himself a weary smile, knowing that he had done his part for the week to make the world a better place for his daughter.

One corrupt official down, a gazillion more to go.

He shook his head as he reached for the door handle, clearing all thoughts of work from his mind.

Inside, Sam was bouncing on her heels, grinning at her daughter as she held her securely in her arms. Her blue eyes sparkled at him from across the room as he quietly closed the door behind him. Janet Fraiser stood by the counter, nursing a glass of Merlot, wearing a contented smile. Daniel Jackson was cooing at the baby over his glasses, and seeing Jack walk in the door, he looked up at him and smiled.

Cassie walked in the room, muttering something, then squealed and ran to Jack, enveloping him in a hug as he thoroughly returned it.

Once she released him, he walked over to his wife, pressing his lips to her forehead and turned to look at his daughter, making a face that she just stared at.

He laughed. Yep. Life was good.

* * *

Morning light gently streamed in through the curtains as Elizabeth blinked sleepily, brushing her head against the smooth muscles in John's chest as she released a contented sigh. She couldn't even remember the last time that she had allowed herself the luxury of sleeping in, much less waking up this relaxed.

Next to her, he heard John smirk as he greeted, "G'morning."

"Morning," she replied, pressing herself into his right side even more as she smiled.

They lay in her queen sized bed, John on his back with the sheet pulled up to his waist and Elizabeth on her side as she curled into him, their bodies fitting together at any angle like a perfect mould.

"How'd you sleep?" he asked drowsily as the arm he had wrapped around her waist tightened, pulling her even closer.

"Hmm," was her satisfied reply as she pressed her lips to his well defined chest.

He felt him exhale a drowsy sigh, then his other hand wandered across his chest to her visible shoulder. His nails were not long, but as they traced a pattern along her sensitive skin while working the thin strap of her black camisole down her arm, it sent a jolt of electricity through her.

"Something wrong?" he muttered coyly, and she rapidly wondered how it was possible to hear someone smiling.

Elizabeth shook her head, burying her face in his shoulder, trying to repress a grin.

John smirked, and the hand that was wrapped around her waist lifted the hem of her shirt, now attacking her from both angles. Suddenly, his hand moved again, and his fingers slipped under the elastic band of her panties. She stiffened as he began drawing invisible circles with his fingertips just above her ass.

"Oh God," she moaned, then pushed herself up, hovering over his chest and covering his lips with hers. He reciprocated just as eagerly, his tongue teasing her lips and finally she relaxed, allowing his tongue to slip in and mingle with hers.

When they couldn't breathe anymore and she pulled her head back, John smirked at her. "I go by John," he replied arrogantly, a thin smile pulling at his lips.

She bit her lip playfully and frowned at him. "You smug bastard," she whispered.

John cocked an eyebrow, pretending to glare. "That wasn't what you called me last night," he reminded her.

She punched his shoulder, then collapsed on his chest. Turning her head sideways, her ear ended up close to his heart, and she could hear and feel the steady beat as it started to slow down a little. It was amazing how one little part of the human body could have such a calming effect; any time that she heard his pulse, felt the rhythm as it kept him alive, she knew that she was safe. She couldn't imagine being anywhere else, _with_ anyone else, and feeling as protected as she did in this moment.

John grunted, then leaned his head down, kissing the mess of hair that currently faced him. "You okay?" he asked softly, the arrogance from their lovemaking starting to fade and being replaced by selfless worry.

She nodded against his chest, turning to look at him. "Yeah," she replied breathlessly.

"Good. Because," he replied as he started to turn, gently forcing Elizabeth off of him and onto her back as he leaned on his elbow, "I wanna ask you something real quick."

"Wha - ooh," was her response as he leaned over her body, bringing his lips back into contact with her neck, kissing his way up her slim neck, reaching the point just behind her ear that made her lower body lose control and arch up into him.

"Sorry, didn't catch that," he murmured as he changed direction and worked his way backwards, retracing the path that he had already taken and continuing lower, towards the bare expanse of her shoulder.

She started to pant and shut her eyes. "I hate you," she stuttered as his tongue replaced his lips and sucked at a particularly sensitive spot on her shoulder.

"I know," he drawled, lifting his head and looking at her. Hazel and green met each other and sparks exploded as they smiled at each other.

He stretched, groaning a little, and she realized it was his left arm, the one that was still recuperating after the gunshot.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth, reaching for it, ready to ask if he was okay, when something sparkly caught her attention.

Bracing himself with his elbows on the mattress, John gave her a shy look as he brought his left hand up, holding a silver band. "So what are you doing for the rest of your life?"

As she realized what John was doing, she was too shocked to say anything. She didn't have to bite back the comment about lousy pick-up lines because her jaw couldn't even more. They hadn't ever talked about marriage, even though it was always a distant thought in the back of her mind.

"I know that we haven't really discussed where this - _us, we_ - where we were going, but the one thing I know for certain in my life is that … I need you. I love you. I don't know where I'd be if I had never met you. And I'm sorry it took a near death experience for me to realize that." His thumb brushed over her cheek, his eyes focusing in on hers even more. "I know I am not the same man I was when you met me."

"No," she replied, trying to choke back an ecstatic sob as her right hand found his. "You're even better."

John smiled, and she saw a small tear at the corner of his eye. "So … Elizabeth Anne Weir?" he started to ask, gripping her hand and maneuvering it to align her finger with her ring.

She didn't fight it; she only grinned and sobbed.

"Will you marry me?"

* * *

Fin.

Thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! And who knows? Maybe we'll see them again someday.


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